Arusian Crusade: Changing Tides
by Aqua Lion
Summary: All things go in cycles. One hero falls, another rises. One enemy is vanquished, another takes his place. An exiled prince finds his way to Arus, and a fallen champion wakes on an alien world. And the war goes on...
1. Blue Lion's Charge

**Arusian Crusade: Changing Tides**  
>Prologue: Blue Lion's Charge<p>

_Arusian Crusade, part 3, follows Starfall. I have no clever author comments right now.  
><em>_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>The control room was empty when Allura entered, and that was really just as well.<p>

She'd put a lot of effort into the flight suit. No Arusian warrior with any sense would wear pink onto the battlefield; it was arrogant, not to mention a terrible omen. But until recently Allura had not been a trained warrior, and it was still hardly her first identity. She was a spirit talker, and the trappings of death were hers to bear. And though it probably wouldn't do to admit it, she _had_ developed a certain aesthetic appreciation for the color as well.

Trained warrior or not, as princess it would have been her right to wear black, the color of command. But she was not truly a commander, and the Voltron Force's color choices didn't line up with traditional Arusian ranks anyway. And Sven had worn black...

To wear _his_ color seemed like a violation. She was here to stand in for the fallen warrior until he healed, not to try to take his place so thoroughly. Though washing out the red uniform until it faded sufficiently, without Nanny catching on, _had_ been quite a trick. The woman watched her domain like a hawk.

It was the first time she'd gone to one of the lions' dens. Blue Lion slept beneath the lake, in a cavern that had just enough air and dry land to permit a pilot to leave the shuttle and walk up to the lion where it sat.

_Here goes nothing_.

She held out the key, watched the faint azure glow trigger the craft's entry systems until the metal beast knelt, eyes glowing, jaws open wide. Inviting her. She boarded quickly, placing the key in its slot, waiting to hear the lion come to life around her.

It did, though not in the matter she'd expected.

A horrific roar shook Blue Lion's cave, and with a second, lower growl it spat the princess from her place in the cockpit to the sandy ground. "Oof!" By the time she recovered enough to look up the lion was sitting back again, the glow in its eyes gone, looking for all the world as if she'd never attempted to enter.

_Okay then. Different approach._

To be perfectly honest she'd thought something like that might happen... not really so violently or emphatically, but a rejection had not been out of the question. Pulling several candles and a few matches from the pouch at her side, Allura knelt and began to arrange the components of the spirit talking ritual before the lion.

This would be a highly unusual use of such a ceremony. She hoped it would work. Because she didn't actually have a backup plan if not.

The pale aura of the spirit realm gathered around the candles, flowing through the cave, entering into Blue Lion and causing its eyes to shimmer with mystic energy. Allura frowned. That was not what she'd expected to happen... no spirit was appearing at the center of the ritual space, but suddenly the lion itself was shifting. Leaning forward. Peering down at her with a soft growl.

_You are not the one_. The soundless voice shook her to her soul._ You are not even one of the five. Begone._

Allura took a long, shallow breath. She couldn't escape the feeling that the metal beast was judging her... judging her and finding her terribly lacking. But she wasn't going to back off. Arus needed her. The Voltron Force needed her. "I need to pilot you for awhile, Blue Lion."

_I do not fly with you. You are not the one._

"I know I'm not, but he isn't here."

_That should not be so. The heart of serenity lives. This was assured._

This was assured? That meant something, but it was just beyond her grasp. Surely the lion couldn't mean it knew what had happened to Sven already? "He's alive, but gravely injured, and we had to send him to another world to heal. It wasn't within our power to treat him here. All I'm asking is that you let me fly with you until he can come back."

There was a hesitation, as if it did not fully comprehend the words. Then, _I do not fly without the heart of serenity._

A certain reverence surrounded the lions. Reverence for the ancient myth they were born from, reverence for their power and mystery. But reverence could only go so far, and Allura was becoming deeply annoyed. "Your _heart of serenity_," she said coldly, "would not approve of your attitude. He gave everything he had to save this world, and now you're going to refuse to defend it? You're going to make his sacrifice meaningless and claim it's in his name?"

To her surprise, Blue Lion's massive head drew back as if she'd struck a physical blow. _No. I refuse nothing. This world is under my protection, and I will not abandon this charge._

"Then act like it!"

Growl. _You are brazen. There is merit to your words, but I do not like you. _

Allura grimaced. Maybe she _had_ gone a little far there, but the lion's obstinance was getting on her nerves. Maddening. Yet it made an odd sort of sense when she thought about it. It had been so recently that Voltron awakened... were the lions arrogant gods, or petulant children? Sometimes there wasn't much difference.

She took a more conciliatory tone. "You must know I wouldn't intrude like this if there were any other option."

_Perhaps_. The metal beast cocked its head. _This would be the will of the heart of serenity?_

"Yes. Sven is a dear friend of mine... he would understand. He would want you to fly without him until he returns." There was no doubt of that in her mind, and she spoke without hesitation.

Silence. The ritual was fading.

Then Blue Lion knelt once more, opened its jaws in acceptance. As the spirit aura faded and the communication was broken, it spoke four final words which echoed in Allura's mind.

_Prove yourself to me._


	2. Unconvinced

**Arusian Crusade: Changing Tides**  
>Chapter 1: Unconvinced<p>

* * *

><p>"You ordered a mourning period to be allowed for a <em>human<em>. I must assume you're prepared to defend such an unorthodox decision."

"Of course, sire."

King Zarkon studied Haggar calmly. Kneeling before him, a subordinate before her liege, rather than at his right hand where she usually stood. Rare that he had to call the witch to task like this. Her initial report of the events on Arus had been quite brief—though she'd at least explained why there was a cat suddenly following her around Nightstone Fortress. Coba was at her side now, crouching, looking every bit as respectful as his mistress.

"Out with it, then."

"It serves no purpose to further underestimate the humans, sire. It is not Voltron alone that gives them their power; you recall their defeat of Faldaren in the arena. The one I faced on Arus ordered a friend away and faced me in single combat, without fear. There is honor in this act, is there not?"

Curious. Most of the Supremacy's battles with the Alliance took place in deep space, with the occasional robeast unleashed against their worlds, and human philosophy in all matters seemed to be one of quantity as key. A human engaging in an honorable duel? Absurd. But unless he was going to doubt Haggar, who certainly had no need to deceive, he had to assume it had happened...

Very interesting. Perhaps even admirable. Still, he hadn't reached his position—hadn't expanded the Ninth Kingdom's borders in ways history had never before seen—by allowing such romantic notions to cloud more pragmatic judgment.

"If we begin to treat the lions and their pilots as worthy foes, rather than the Alliance-spawned vermin we know them to be, what purpose does that serve? What advantage does this grant the Ninth Kingdom?"

The witch's eyes flickered for a moment. "Contempt breeds carelessness, sire. I fell victim to it myself, and thus the human was successful in breaking one of my spells. We have been caught off-guard by the defenders of Arus several times already, and who knows what the Alliance may have learned from the lion god's awakening? If we merely expect to face vermin, we risk further setbacks."

There was wisdom to her words. Voltron might strike terror in the hearts of the kingdom's warriors, but he'd already heard the rumors spreading over Korrinoth. The rank and file didn't understand the nuances of Voltron, but they knew a pilot had fallen and Voltron could no longer take the battlefield, and so they spoke with confidence. Thinking victory was assured. Yet the lions alone had devastated two fleets, hadn't they?

Yes, there was much wisdom in this new course. As long as it didn't go overboard.

"Very well. I will issue a statement to Admiral Yurak's fleet, explaining this act and its rationale. We will grant the standard reprieve, and the moment it is finished he will be in position to overwhelm that world for good."

Haggar nodded, and Coba screeched in approval.

* * *

><p>The reports coming in from the Alliance were interesting. Interesting, and entirely unexpected... Keith had settled in behind the consoles in the control room, ostensibly on monitor duty, actually just looking for a quiet place to sit down and read.<p>

War had officially been declared on the Ninth Kingdom, citing the unprovoked razing of Arus as justification. Three battlegroups had arrived in the Denubian and would be striking at border worlds within the week.

According to some notes personally appended to the reports by Colonel Hawkins, the only reason Alliance support was possible was because Voltron had the Drules on their heels... Keith grimaced. He had not yet reported Sven's injury; it wasn't that he hadn't _tried_, but the report was simply refusing to write itself. The admission could not seem to take form in words. Perhaps it was playing to their advantage for the moment; his best guess right now was that the sudden Alliance presence elsewhere was the reason they hadn't seen any Drules since their navigator had fallen.

He really needed to get the damned report written. Surely they could pull a new pilot from the inbound battlegroups, though the thought of just throwing some random soldier onto Voltron's grid made him a little twitchy. He was pretty sure it wasn't just him... if he asked Black Lion he had no doubt he'd get a firm rejection of the idea.

But what other choice did they have?

As if to answer his question, a noise rang out from inside one of the lion chutes. That wouldn't normally be too worrying, except he knew where everyone was right now. Pidge was repairing a mouse, Hunk was cooking lunch against Nanny's orders, and Lance was out beating the literal stuffing out of Strawman... turning, his unease increased as he saw which of the chutes the sound had come from.

The door to Blue Lion's den slid open, and a slim form in a pink flight suit froze in the doorway. "Oh, uh... Keith! Great, I was just about to come and find you."

_...What. Is. This._

He stared at Allura, entirely unwilling to believe what he was seeing. There was only one logical reason for her to have been down... _wait_. Blue Lion hadn't _gone_ anywhere. It would have shown up on the monitors. "Allura... what were you doing?"

"Talking to Blue Lion." Oh. Talking. Talking? He was about to respond to that when the princess continued, "I want to take over piloting until Sven returns."

And that was what he'd been afraid of. The commander shook his head without really even thinking about it. "Absolutely not. We're not risking you in combat, that's out of the question."

"What do you mean out of the question? You've already been training me for combat."

"Princess..." He tried to keep his tone from being patronizing, which wasn't easy. He really wanted to patronize her to hell and back. "Look, training you in martial arts and self defense is one thing. Putting you in a lion is something totally different. You'll be putting a huge target on your head, and if you end up getting injured like Sven, or worse, there's nobody left to rule your planet. What happens then?"

"Fair question." Allura crossed her arms. "But I _am_ the princess; there's a pretty large target on my head already. And if we don't have Voltron, it's not going to be long before there's no planet left for me to rule."

He had to admit she had a point there. Still. "It doesn't have to be you. Alliance forces just arrived in the Denubian, we can—"

"I don't think even you believe what you're about to say, Keith."

Keith grimaced. Was it that obvious? No. No, he didn't. He didn't believe it, he didn't like it, Black Lion didn't like it... he returned to what he really should have asked about long ago. "What do you mean, exactly, when you say you were _talking_ to Blue Lion?"

"Precisely that." She held up a handful of candle stubs. "I was just going to spend a few minutes in the cockpit, try to get a sense of the layout, before asking to train as a pilot. But it didn't approve." Frown. "It doesn't like me, but it's willing to let me fly... and now _expects_ me to make the attempt."

For a minute he just stood there, staring at the candles, trying to make sense of what he'd just been told. Talking to Blue Lion. He hadn't even considered the idea that this involved it talking _back_. As a quick test he reached into the boundaries of his mind, the place where his own soul had connected to another. _Black Lion, are you there? Say something._

Immediately, a sense of presence flooded through him. Presence and perhaps a hint of confusion. No words. Not that he'd expected any words, really.

"You can do that?" he finally muttered, a little lamely, not pleased with the response but not quite able to get any other words out.

The princess nodded. "It was something of a shot in the dark, really. But Keith, please understand. Blue Lion... is something of a suspicious child right now. It doesn't understand why Sven isn't here, doesn't like the idea of having to allow someone else to fly it." She looked at the monitors, now displaying the glittering surface of the lake. "I was able to convince it to give me a chance, and that took some work. Anyone else you bring in will have to go through that again, and honestly I'm not sure Blue will even be as receptive to another prospective pilot as it was to me."

_Well that's a fine mess._ He believed her, mostly because what she was saying sounded so insane. It had taken awhile to get used to the idea of even being bound to the lions—and the other pilots, for that matter. The idea of holding a coherent _conversation_ with one of the metal beasts was not taking hold easily at all. Who would make something like this up?

Believing her made it worse. Made him somewhat annoyed, also. "It really would have been better if you'd mentioned this idea to the rest of us _before_ putting yourself in place as the only one who can do the job."

"No doubt." Her eyes narrowed, sparking with sapphire flame. "I didn't _intend_ for things to progress as they did, Commander Kogane."

_Uh oh._

She wasn't going to pull rank on him, not so quickly, not so bluntly. But calling him that could only really serve one purpose. Despite all her attempts to just be 'one of the guys', as she put it... despite insisting on being called Allura rather than Princess when she trained with the team... the fact of the matter was, she was still the ruler of Arus, as he'd just been trying to point out. And as far as the Alliance was concerned, she was in overall command of the Voltron Force.

Message received. And he really did not want her ordering him to allow this, for several reasons. "...Fine. Then we don't have any time to waste."

* * *

><p>Their commander assumed—quite rightly and reasonably, really—that by now Pidge and Hunk were proficient in every lion's specific systems. After all, they'd spent quality time in the hangar with each one of them. On the whole Blue Lion was more similar to Yellow than Green, which made some sense given their positions as Voltron's legs... and that was how Hunk found himself clinging to the back of Blue Lion's piloting chair, half instructing Allura on which buttons to press, half just holding on for dear life.<p>

_Plenty of room in these cockpits for a passenger seat. That's next on the list!_

In all honesty she wasn't that bad. Or at least, she wasn't that much worse than the rest of the team had been in their first few days on the sims. That did amount to her not being very good, and whatever stabilizers kept the pilot in place did much less for the rest of the cockpit.

Hunk wasn't the only one engaging in a death grip, either. "Take it _easy_, Princess. You don't have to hold the controls like you wanna rip 'em out of their sockets."

"Oh." Immediately her grip on the steering rods loosened. "Does that cause problems?"

"No, but it's gonna hurt your hands."

She didn't respond to that. He wasn't sure if it was because she didn't find the point relevant, or just because Red Lion had come down at their tail and she was trying to work out how to leap away. After a few moments, Blue Lion darted to the side, barely landing on its feet and turning to see the other lion crouching there with its jaws open wide.

"Bang, you're dead," Lance announced over the comms.

Allura sighed. "I know."

"That was better," Hunk offered in his most reassuring tone. "At least you didn't fall down on the landing this time."

"Yeah. Wonderful."

"Princess, you've been in the cockpit for two hours. It ain't gonna come quickly."

"He's right." Green Lion trotted up in front of them and cocked its head. Pidge didn't want to be out here at all; he had been trying to find a way to program some simulation tech into the lions. It hadn't worked out so far, and Keith had finally ordered him into the field. "Even Lance spent most of his first few days in the dirt back at the Academy."

"Watch it, squirt. You were on your ass way more than I was."

"They were programmed as ships, not lions, Lance. They didn't have asses."

"Can it, you two."

"Stop being such a grouch, Keith."

"Okay, fine. Keep talking, but let's go back to maneuvers too."

Maneuvers were all they'd even attempted so far. Without any sort of sim mode, weapons training was out of the question, though that was probably a little too advanced for the moment anyway. Keith had even entertained the idea of having the Alliance send the sim pods they'd trained in to Arus, but given the month of travel time involved, it wouldn't be likely to be worth it.

Keeping Blue Lion on its feet was sort of the important thing right now.

Allura pulled back on the controls, causing her craft to start moving in reverse as Black Lion appeared at their left side. "Good. You're looking a lot more stable."

"I'd hope so," the princess muttered. "Walking backwards shouldn't be _that_ hard to master."

"You kidding?" Hunk snorted. "I haven't even mastered that outside of a lion." Dropping his voice so the open comms wouldn't pick it up, he half-whispered in her ear, "Now let's see how quick you can go forward. Pidge is still grumpy, he could use a good pounce."

She flipped the comm switch off. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nah. Look, walking and dodging's all well and good, but you're gonna have to at least look dangerous at some point. May as well get started."

"Okay, if you say so..." With a roar, Blue Lion sprang into the air, coming down a bit unsteadily and headbutting Green Lion's left shoulder quite by accident.

"Hey!" Pidge's indignant shriek was nearly drowned out by Lance's laughter. "What do you think you're—okay, we can play it that way." Green reached up and smacked Blues muzzle lightly with one paw. Then it whirled, kicked up a spray of sand in the other lion's face, and bolted into the depths of the desert. "Tag, you're it!"

Hunk was about to tell Allura to go ahead and follow when he realized there was no need to. She might not really know how to fly, but she wasn't going to let that challenge go unanswered. Blue Lion broke into a loping run, and the big engineer tightened his grip on the pilot's chair as the easy run became a sprint and the sands shifted beneath them.

Behind them, Red Lion was moving ahead. "You get him, Allura. Get him and hold him down so we can _both_ beat him up, huh?"

She didn't answer. Even beneath the armored flight suit her passenger could tell how tightly her shoulders were hunched, how her whole body was coiled and ready to snap. "Relax, Princess," Hunk advised for probably the tenth time today. "You're already gonna be _so_ sore tomorrow."

Keith was quiet as his team fanned out over the desert. He'd been even quieter than usual lately, still reeling from the loss of his friend and second, but Hunk had high hopes that he would snap out of it soon. Word would come from Ebb that Sven was recovering, Allura would become proficient in piloting, things would work themselves out, and their commander would return to his old self.

Wouldn't he?

Green Lion wasn't quite as fast as Red, but it could hit higher raw speeds than Blue even without taking their respective pilots into account. Hunk rather doubted Pidge was going to be satisfied with just outrunning Allura, and was torn between warning her to watch out, and waiting to see how she would react when the inevitable revenge came into play. The former would keep him healthy, but the latter would help her training... and be so much more _fun_.

He was still debating it with himself when Green Lion came sailing over a pile of rocks and came down claws-first on Blue Lion's back. An experienced pilot could've ducked under the strike, or at least remained standing and lessened the blow. Allura being decidedly inexperienced, Blue went down in a heap, with a crash that thoroughly broke Hunk's grip and and threw him to the other side of the cockpit.

"Hey, _hey_, little buddy! This ain't live-fire, we've got a loose body rattling around in here!"

"Sorry, big guy." Pidge giggled. "But I bet you deserved it."

"Now why would you think that?"

"Because I don't think jumping me was Allura's idea?"

"I'm not going to confirm or deny that," the princess retorted before her companion could answer. Then Blue Lion reached up from where it was sprawled out on the sand, and took a weak swipe that just barely hit Green Lion's neck. "Also, you're it."

Red appeared behind them; Lance was chuckling over the comms. "Come tag me, if you want a real challenge. Or even better, go smack Fearless Leader, he needs to lighten up a lit—"

"Castle control to all lions!" Coran's voice broke in using the control room's comm override, which could really only mean one thing. He said it anyway. "We have a Drule fleet inbound to your southwest. ETA ten minutes."

"Figures." Pidge sighed. "Just when it was getting fun."

"You kidding? Killing Drules is fun too." Red Lion turned to the west. "So let's go do some blasting and have a blast."

"Right. Allura, get Hunk to Yellow's den. Lance and Pidge, get ready, but let's not move to intercept with just the three of us."

"Killjoy."

"You got it, chief."

The princess looked back at Hunk. "Should we just go back to the castle?"

"Nah, no point in that." He knew precisely where to find Yellow's cave, though he wasn't quite certain he could explain. The location was just _there_, in his mind. "Let me drive us there though, easier than trying to describe it."

"Sure."

When he took the controls, the big pilot was certain he felt something. Just for a moment. A pulse of presence that was similar to what he so frequently felt from Yellow Lion, but it wasn't coming from Yellow. It was coming from Blue... and if he didn't know better he'd have called it relief.

It felt like it hadn't been so long ago that he'd been complaining about Blue not liking him, but the flicker left him a bit concerned. _That's not very nice, Big Blue_, he admonished mentally, and the feeling vanished.

Assuming it had ever been there at all.

* * *

><p>The fleet had come in over the mountain range and released the robeast immediately; the monster would come down in the mountains, where it would be more difficult to detect. As King Zarkon had pointed out himself in an address to Yurak's forces before they'd left Korrinoth, the lions were a match for warships on their own. It was always best to have a backup plan.<p>

Sensors began screaming of incoming contacts. "Lions inbound." Lirik moved back for a moment, checking her monitors. "Coming from the northeast at a full run. Entering visual range. They..." A pause as his aide put the image up and froze. "Sir... they... sir... the lions...?"

She couldn't get any coherent words out, but she didn't need to. He could see it just fine himself. The lions were approaching.

All five lions.

At that moment, Yurak hit the breaking point. He wasn't even sure what he was thinking, how it might be possible... it didn't much matter. He just knew there were five lions, and there should not be five lions, and they'd pulled back and allowed a mourning period for a pilot who clearly hadn't even been dead, let alone honorably dead...

"Full retreat!" he snarled, ignoring the startled look from Snuff. "Full retreat. All units return to Korrinoth. Leave the robeast, that blasted witch can deal with losing another pet. Move!"

As the _Death Defiant_ and its fleet vanished into the jumpgate, he forced himself to calm somewhat. Slowly his breathing returned to normal and he noted the expressions on the rest of the bridge crew; Lirik was the first to dare to speak. "Sir. Are you alright?"

"No," he muttered darkly, clenching a fist around the hilt of his sword. "Haggar had better have a good explanation for this... or I'm going to have her head on my wall, and Sarga can just deal with it."

A few winces went around the bridge at that last part. He would probably have to pay a visit to a priest once they returned to Korrinoth, to make amends to the chaos goddess—to reassure his crew if nothing else. But right now he didn't much care.

After all, relying on Sarga's greatest witch hadn't gotten him _anywhere_.

* * *

><p>Either Green Lion had most of the team's electronic warfare capabilities, or Pidge was just the only one who bothered to use them. Regardless, the rest of the team fell silent as Green tapped into the enemy comms, broadcasting all of the Drule commander's rant for the rest of the team to enjoy.<p>

"Oh, man. He sounded _pissed,"_ Lance chuckled. "I would not want to be the witch when that dude gets home, that's for sure."

Allura wished she could be equally amused, but her focus was mostly on keeping Blue Lion moving in a straight line. And worrying. Hunk had given her a brief overview of the craft's main weapon systems before leaving to board his own lion, but still. She was acutely aware of the fact that she wasn't ready to be driving this thing in combat.

The furious retreat might have been entertaining, but there had also been a very clear mention of leaving the robeast. Which meant there was still a robeast on her planet, and she barely knew how to shoot. That was no laughing matter at all.

"Any sign of the target practice they left us?" Lance inquired, as if reading her thoughts. Part of her wondered how he could be so casual, but then again, this _was_ Lance. If he sounded worried, it probably meant galactic apocalypse. "I'm not getting anything yet."

"Scanning." Green Lion moved higher into the air, eyes glowing white as it swept its gaze over the mountains. "Got it." A faint _ping_ drew Allura's attention to a side monitor; Pidge was sending the others the location. "We going?"

Keith hesitated a moment before responding. "Not like this. I don't want to take any chances. You set, Princess?"

That could only mean one thing. "I'm ready."

"All right. Activate interlocks." They'd gone over this, of course. She knew these commands. "Dynatherms connected." As she hit the switches something was bothering her, something she couldn't quite place... "Infracells up. Megathrusters are go!"

A chill shot through Allura as the other four lions shot into the sky and she heard the other pilots call out over the comms. "Let's go, Voltron Force!"

Blue Lion remained on the ground, watching, and Allura found herself gripping the controls just the way Hunk had told her not to. _Ugh_. She let go and went over the sequence in her head. _What's going on? I'm sure I hit everything correctly. _At first she was convinced she must have completely missed something, or perhaps they'd forgotten to tell her something. But then there was a surge of emotion from around her. Doubt. Refusal.

From the lion.

"Oh, come on!"

The other four had vanished into the energy field that heralded Voltron, but returned almost as quickly, the formation aborted. "Princess, what happened? Are you okay?" Keith sounded worried. Rather impatient, but worried.

Allura scowled at the consoles. "Apparently," she muttered, "I have not earned the right to form Voltron." It took all her restraint not to add how she felt about that fact; insulting the metal beast she was piloting would probably not endear her to it any further. For all she knew there was some grand spiritual reasoning behind this; Voltron's mystical workings were well beyond her understanding. Maybe she truly wasn't ready.

Regardless, it certainly _felt_ like Blue Lion was just toying with her, and her blood was alight with irritation.

In any case, Keith took it in stride. "Then we do what we can with the lions. Allura, I want you to stick behind us. Take shots when you get them, but I don't want that robeast getting its claws... or whatever else it has... on you. Got it?"

"Got it." Being relegated to the back of the battle stung, no matter how wise she knew it to be. Up until that moment she'd been certain things would improve, but now she was wondering. The failed formation really wasn't a cause for optimism... but she wasn't about to give up. Not this soon.

Not ever.

Today's robeast was a snarling mass of armor and tentacles. "Wow," Hunk whispered. "Think they sent it here just to get it off Doom? Even by Drule standards that's gotta be too ugly to keep around."

"They sentenced it to death for breaking every mirror in Nightstone Fortress," Lance agreed.

"Isn't there a human thing about broken mirrors causing bad luck?" Pidge asked.

"There is indeed."

"Awesome. Let's go enforce it."

Black Lion led the team forward, Red on its right, Green on its left. Yellow Lion was hanging a ways back with Blue, covering their newest pilot, and Allura was grateful for the thought if not the implied lack of confidence. She knew she didn't deserve confidence yet, but... her knowledge of her own weakness was annoying her more every moment.

Blue Lion might not like her, but they were going to get very well acquainted here soon, because she wouldn't be leaving this cockpit until she could put up a solid fight all on her own.

Of course, they had to live through dealing with the robeast first.

Watching the approaching lions the monster reached up, and the half dozen tentacles which made up one of its arms stabbed out towards Black, hardening into razor-sharp spears that nearly pierced the approaching ship's armor. "Damn," Keith hissed, "this thing packs a punch. Whatever you do, don't give it a straight shot at you."

"No problem." Lance swooped in, lasers blazing, and Pidge darted in just behind him, launching a hail of gleaming blades from its tail. The robeast's other arm shot out, but both were gone before any of the tendril-spears impacted, and Black Lion darted in beneath the strike to sink its fangs into their enemy's ribs.

Allura couldn't help envying how easily they moved, but pushed it aside. _Don't sulk, improve_. She'd been told to stay back and look for her shots, and for the moment she would do that. Getting herself killed really _wouldn't_ help Arus any.

Yellow Lion fixed its gaze on the beast and lasers speared out from its eyes, hitting a knee and causing it to stumble. "This isn't doin' any good," Hunk reported, even as the princess found herself thinking things seemed to be going well. "We're barely scratching this thing."

Keith's frustration came across loud and clear. "Death by a thousand cuts is still death. Keep pouring it on."

"Wait! We're close to Mount Ahriman," Lance said abruptly.

"Lance?"

"You know, the volcano, Red Lion's den. We're not far away from it and there are plenty of lava flows in this part of the mountains. Find a big one, lure the robeast there, and I'll drag it in. Pretty much willing to bet he won't be able to take the heat."

Nobody said anything for a few moments, but nobody seemed to have any better ideas either, and finally Keith agreed. "Pidge, go scout. Everyone else, in the air. Let's do as much damage as we can in the meantime."

As soon as the lions took to the sky, the tentacles on the robeast's back shot out to its sides, forming a crackling energy membrane between them and becoming a functional set of wings. "Okay, that's actually kind of awesome," Hunk admitted.

"That really is," Lance agreed. "Shame we've got to break 'em." Rearing back, Red Lion breathed a massive gout of fire that carved a blackened scar over the robeast's shoulder, causing its flight to waver for a moment before it steadied and raised its arm to send a flurry of spears at its attacker.

In that moment, Allura saw her shot. And for an instant it all came naturally, snapping Blue Lion's head up, steadying her craft for the shot and hitting the frontal cannon as her crosshairs drifted over the target. Everything she'd learned and a few things she hadn't came together.

Freezing water erupted from the lion's jaws, and the robeast's left arm changed from a mass of writhing spears to a solid block of ice.

"Nice shooting, Princess!"

A snarl as the frozen-armed beast whirled on her and opened its own mouth, firing a laser that melted a swath across Blue Lion's chest. Almost immediately Yellow was in front of her, firing its heavy cannon into the monster's chest, being careful to aim for its right so as not to undo her fine work. "Uh, agreed on the shooting, but I think you just got its attention."

"Allura, _run for_—"

"Found some lava," Pidge interrupted. "Allura, come to me."

A green beacon appeared on the same auxiliary monitor that had tagged the robeast earlier. Off to her left, about half a mile. "On my way." Orienting on Green Lion's signal she pushed Blue Lion as fast as it would go, then slowed drastically as she nearly lost control. _Okay. Let's not overdo it_. Pushing her speed back up as high as she felt comfortable with she started moving again.

Really she felt quite good about what she'd accomplished. To draw the robeast's attention meant she'd actually made herself a credible threat. On the other hand, she wasn't really prepared to deal with _having_ the robeast's attention.

Partial win.

She could see the glow of the lava ahead, but she could also see her pursuer closing in from behind. "Step it up," Pidge's voice crackled over a private channel. "He's closing too fast."

"I can't go any faster," she admitted through gritted teeth.

"Sure you can."

"I already—"

"—Don't argue with me, Allura! You can do it."

Well, the little pilot _did_ have his own brand of encouragement. Allura braced herself and nodded, coaxing Blue Lion forward faster until everything was a blur, the controls weren't seeming to move as fast as they should, she was spiraling out of control and the lava was coming up too fast and while Red Lion might be able to take the heat, she was certain Blue couldn't...

Suddenly Black Lion was beneath her, catching her plummeting craft across its back and darting out of the way just as the robeast's un-frozen arm pierced the air where she'd been. A moment later Red Lion tackled the beast from behind, accompanied by a missile from Yellow Lion just to help with the momentum.

Both vanished into the burning pit below.

"Told you you could do it," Pidge commented lightly. "Or maybe I should've just said Keith's got your back?"

"I think _I've_ got _his_ back," she muttered as Black knelt and set her lion down on a nearby slope. "Or at least I'm _on_ his back."

Hunk chuckled, and Yellow Lion looked into the blazing depths. "Hey Lance, are you okay?"

Nothing.

"Lance, come in," Keith ordered.

"He's in _lava_, guys. He's not going to come in until—"

Fiery bubbles appeared at the surface where lion and robeast had vanished, and the lion erupted from the lava alone. "That dude got burned," Lance announced cheerfully. "Can we do that again sometime?"

Keith sighed audibly. "Here's hoping we don't need to."

Wincing, Allura pulled Blue back to its feet and looked around at the others. Their commander didn't need to elaborate on _why_ such a trick had been necessary. "Sorry, guys."

She could practically hear Hunk's shrug in his voice. "Not your fault. It takes practice."

The princess nodded. Practice was something she intended to get plenty of. "So Pidge..."

"Yeah?"

"I think you were still it."

With a roar of triumph Blue Lion took to the sky again, with Green on her tail, and Allura found herself actually smiling. Maybe things would get better after all.


	3. Two Princes

**Arusian Crusade: Changing Tides**  
>Chapter 2: Two Princes<p>

* * *

><p>The doors to the throne room burst open and Admiral Yurak stalked in, ocular implant glowing brightly enough to illuminate the area around him with crimson rage. Several courtiers jumped, two goblets of wine clattered to the floor, and all eyes locked on the admiral as he stormed forward to stand before Zarkon and his aides.<p>

"What are you playing at, witch?" His roar sent a shudder through the weaker-willed denizens of the throne room, even though they weren't the target of his wrath. "You told me one of the pilots was dead! Ordered a mourning period and everything! Now tell me _why_, in the name of Narisoth the Relentless, there were_ five lions_ waiting to meet my fleet on Arus?"

Directly invoking the dread war deity of the Drule pantheon was something that wasn't done lightly, not even by warriors of Yurak's stature. Perhaps _especially_ by warriors of Yurak's stature, given how easy it would be for Narisoth to reach out and smite him in his next battle should the Relentless One take offense. It certainly served its purpose. If there had been any question left in the throne room about how truly incensed the admiral was, it was fully dispelled by the invocation.

Haggar was quiet in the face of his fury. Not because she was frightened, of course, but because she was trying to find the answer he was demanding. How could it be possible? Galcia's strike on the human had been unsurvivable. Even if, by some unknown miracle, he _had_ survived, he couldn't possibly be in any shape to pilot a spacecraft. It had been less than a week.

"This I do not know, Admiral."

She wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but that wasn't it; he physically recoiled from the admission. But his rage came back quickly. "What do you mean you don't _know?"_

"My words were not unclear." Her eyes gleamed. "On the honor of the wyvern, and with all respect to Narisoth, I believed the pilot I fought to be dead." Her deferential tone faded slightly as she moved from speaking of gods to mortals. "Furthermore, he was grievously wounded regardless. Something else is at play here. I suggest scouting the situation before proceeding further."

To her surprise, it was Zarkon rather than Yurak who responded. "Sound advice." He shifted his gaze to Yurak. "Admiral, kindly warn me when you intend to engage in such behavior as this in the future. My lackeys need to know when they should be gripping their drinks more strongly." A few winces went around the throne room at that, but the two who'd actually spilled the drinks in question looked relieved that all they were getting was ridicule.

The admiral blinked, then nodded. "Of course, my lord. I'll go requisition a scout team—"

"—That will not be necessary." Zarkon frowned. "I know of a spy who would be perfect for the job, and frankly, I've been at a loss as to what to _do_ with him of late." He turned to an aide. "The serpent. Go and make the arrangements." The aide seemed to understand, bowing and vanishing. The king returned his attention to the still-irate warrior before him. "You will be kept up to date on the proceedings. In the meantime, you and your warriors should rest."

Yurak didn't look like he cared for the idea, though Haggar was privately surprised this hadn't come up earlier. He and his people had not had a moments' free time since being given the mission against Voltron. "Very well... as you command, my lord." Shooting one last scowl at Haggar, he departed the throne room.

The witch looked at Zarkon, who was looking back at her with an unreadable expression. "The serpent, sire? Are you quite certain that one is reliable?"

"No. I'm hoping he'll get himself killed, frankly; the fool hands us one planet of vermin and seems to think he should get some sort of respect for it. The only reason I haven't had him executed myself is because I don't want to discourage other collaborators. But he'll serve his purpose. All we need is to find out what's happening with this pilot who isn't dead..." He trailed off, clearly expecting an explanation.

She didn't have one to give him. "It's as I told the admiral, sire. I am certain the one I fought cannot be piloting his lion."

"The lions are just spacecraft; they could have found a replacement pilot during the mourning period. This ought to have factored into your—"

"A thousand apologies, sire, but this is incorrect." Interrupting the king was a privilege very few in any kingdom could claim, but Haggar had earned that right before the current king even took the throne. So long as she did it properly. It was always best for the ruler's ego to be salved before the contradiction even began. "The lions are _not_ mere spacecraft, and the pilots are not mere pilots. When the humans were present on Korrinoth, I warned you that destiny had touched them, did I not?"

Zarkon frowned. "You did, and I heeded your warning."

"Indeed, I do not question your actions in attempting to end their threat. What I mean to say is that the destiny which marked them was clearly the claim of the lion god. Five humans, five lions. For someone new to step in and try to re-weave fate..." She shook her head. "It would be quite extraordinary."

He was still frowning, but seemed to accept the explanation. "I see. Well, we'll send the spy and have the truth soon enough. And Haggar."

"Yes, sire?"

"I appreciate your not turning my greatest commander into a frog for that outburst."

Haggar actually chuckled.

* * *

><p>"The princess is doing <em>what?"<em>

Coran grimaced. He really didn't relish having to defend Allura's decision to Nanny, not least because he didn't think too highly of it himself. Perhaps it was the only way, but that didn't mean it was a good way. "She's learning to pilot the Blue Lion," he said finally, keeping his voice even, hoping his calm might carry over.

It didn't. "She can't—is she mad? Are _you_ mad? The princess can't risk her life out there galloping about in those metal monstrosities! What happens if—"

"—Nanny, I assure you I've already had this discussion with her. More than once. Even Keith tried to talk her out of it."

The woman arched an eyebrow. "I knew he had the most sense of those hooligans."

Lately she'd taken to using 'hooligans' as a term of some endearment. Coran was pretty sure it was mostly because she couldn't decide if the term truly applied or not, so she was just covering her bases. He shook his head. "The princess won't budge. She believes her mystic abilities make her the only person suitable for the job, and—"

"—It's only temporary, besides."

Both jumped at the soft voice from the doorway. Allura was standing there in her flight suit, looking mildly amused. "I'm piloting until Sven returns, that's all. Someone has to do it. The Voltron Force was already training me for combat, remember?"

"As if I could forget," the woman muttered. "It was mad then and it's mad now!"

The princess shrugged. "The position we're in right now doesn't give us much chance to look for optimal solutions, Nanny. But have some faith in me. I'm learning quickly."

Nanny grimaced. "I suppose I don't have much choice, do I? But I swear, Princess Allura, if you get yourself killed out there..."

Allura crossed her arms. "I will not fail my people, Nanny. Staying alive is part of that."

Coran decided to intervene before this went any further. It was his job to be the pragmatic one, after all, and right now that meant supporting the princess. If only because it was really never any use telling her no. He put a hand on Nanny's arm. "It's best if we not keep her any longer, I think. The more she trains, the better her chances. Princess, go ahead. Be careful."

"I will be." Nodding her thanks, the princess departed, and the advisor turned to see Nanny's wide brown eyes locked on him with worry.

"There's no other way?"

"There's no other way."

The woman sighed, crossed herself. "Well let's not just stand around then," she muttered finally. "Someone's got to keep an eye on her while she practices this nonsense."

_Indeed_. That much he could agree on, and they followed the princess to the control room.

* * *

><p>Despite her reassurances to Nanny, the princess had her own concerns about how her piloting training was going. Or more to the point, how her recent combat performance had gone through no fault of her <em>own<em>. After leaving the common room she went back to the lion's den, ritual components in hand, intent on getting some answers.

Blue Lion woke slowly this time, sweeping its gaze over the candles, finally settling on Allura with a growl that did not sound at all patient. Or pleasant.

_Why are you here? Again?_

That was a great start. "I want to know why you won't let me form Voltron. We aren't going to be able to hold out like this much longer."

_You do yourself no favors by waking me._

"Forgive me. I'm a bit annoyed that you're playing games with the lives of my friends and my people!"

The lion gave a softer growl, cocked its head. _There are no games. You try my patience, and you do not comprehend._

"Then explain it to me."

_Is this your idea of strength? Demanding the answers you have not earned?_ Allura recoiled, trying to find an answer that didn't involve calling the lion a brat, and was a bit startled when it continued. _If you cannot even prove yourself to me, why would my brothers accept your presence in the great bond? Your soul would be forfeit._

Those last words caused the princess to pause. "...Are you trying to tell me you saved my life?"

_Not life. Life is not sufficient. The heart of serenity lives, and yet here _you_ are._

So much for a civil conversation. "Look. I understand that you don't like me." She refrained from mentioning that the feeling was mutual. "I know I'm not even a very good pilot right now, but I don't have the benefit of months of training on sims and unawakened lions—"

_Your skill in flight does not concern me_._ If you would stand for the heart of serenity, your own heart must be worthy._

Allura blinked. She hadn't expected that; she'd assumed her stumbling around on the very lower fringes of competence was the problem. "How am I supposed to prove...?"

_If I answer that you have failed. _The aura was fading. _Do not wake me in this manner again. If you are worthy we will speak..._

Silence.

That hadn't gone nearly as well as she'd hoped. Sighing, Allura produced her key and boarded the craft. Maybe her flying ability didn't concern Blue Lion, but it definitely concerned the rest of the team. And if she couldn't help form Voltron, she'd better improve on that count. Fast.

* * *

><p>Allura was definitely getting better. Still couldn't really hit the broad side of a barn, but then, Lance had never really found that expression convincing. He'd seen a lot of large barns in his day, and they really just weren't all that big compared to the scale they were dealing with here. If the princess could hit the broad side of a <em>robeast<em>, that would suffice.

She couldn't hit Red Lion, but he'd be pretty insulted if she could at this point. If he tried to move, anyway. Presently he was just sitting still in midair waiting to be hit, and that wasn't going so well either.

"Use your eyes, Allura, that wasn't even in the same _quadrant_," he complained as another laser burst went well wide of where he was hovering. "I'd like to have to dodge sometime today."

"Are you guys sure we can't make a giant Strawman? I'd rather shoot at something that doesn't talk back," she grumbled, taking another shot that almost clipped Red's ear. Pidge hadn't managed to work in any sim tech, but he _had_ figured out how to modify the lions' laser power settings. For training purposes they could be dialed down to be pretty lights and nothing more, but the other weapons weren't so simple. "You wouldn't be so cocky if I could use my missiles."

"I wouldn't count on that!"

"Give him more stuff to not get hit by and he'll just get more cocky," Hunk pointed out. Yellow Lion was sitting on the ground watching the session; asking Allura to deal with multiple targets at once seemed like a bit much at this stage. "You want me to step in?"

"Please."

"Forget it, big guy. This is still my dance."

"Such mixed messages," the big pilot sighed.

Whatever witty retort Lance might have offered was interrupted by Coran, who was monitoring them from the castle as usual. Nanny was watching too; she'd done a lot of panicking in the early stages, but fortunately the comms stayed mostly closed. "Castle control to Voltron Force, we have an entry signature on screen."

"An _entry signature?"_ Pidge repeated, puzzled.

"Huh." Hunk sounded equally confused. "That's weird."

Lance frowned. He'd heard that terminology before, but wasn't entirely clear on what it meant, and was keenly aware of Coran's lack of alarm. Hunk and Pidge not being worried was one thing, but Coran did tend to panic, so if _he_ wasn't... "What's so weird about it?"

"They're typical of warp drives," Pidge explained. "Sort of a catch-all for how a lot of different independent planets and small federations do interstellar travel; skip drives and jumpgates are both essentially intergalactic-capable refinements of basic warp tech—"

"—Pidge, can we get to it sometime today?"

Green's back turret swiveled, and swatted Red with a laser blast that wasn't _quite_ fully depowered. Not enough to do any damage worth speaking of, but enough to make a point, plus drawing a laugh from Hunk and a reprimand from Keith. "Cut that out! Just answer the question. And let's get moving while we're doing it, the signature's on screen."

"It's weird because it means it ain't Drules _or_ Alliance inbound," Hunk said simply. And almost immediately after that, "Oh. But uh, we've got Drules too."

Sure enough, Lance noticed his sensors lighting up with warnings. One ship had emerged from the entry signature; it appeared to be some sort of small shuttlecraft. A weirdly tiny Drule warship had appeared not too far away, and as the lions screamed in at full speed it opened fire on the shuttle, blasting one wing off and sending it into a spiraling dive toward the earth.

"That's a Charun-class corvette," Keith declared. "Pursuit ship. Looks like whoever that is, they've made some enemies... Pidge, fetch. Everyone else, on the warship."

"Fetch?" Pidge whined. _"Fetch?_ Are you kidding me?" He didn't go any further with the complaint, and Green Lion split off from the rest of the team.

Lance kept an eye on Blue Lion even as he led the charge against the incoming warship. Corvettes weren't really that much larger than the lions; it was hard to tell at a distance, but the Charun might even be slightly smaller. He wanted to see how this would go. "So Allura, how about those missiles you were talking up, huh?"

"Way ahead of you." On his left, the other ship's missile racks shimmered into existence, and waves of warheads erupted to spiral in toward the pursuit craft. Several missiles streaked wide, but most impacted solidly on the bow of the warship, causing it to shudder as nearly all its momentum was stripped away.

"Not bad." Pushing his lasers back up to full power, Lance followed the princess' attack up with a flurry of crimson light that melted most of the remaining armor from the enemy ship's front.

The Charun attempted to reverse course, and the jump coils in the rear of the ship began glowing as if it actually expected to get a jumpgate off in time to save itself. Any hope of that was erased as Black Lion came up beneath it, firing off a crackling bolt of electricity from its tail that shorted out the coils in a wash of green and blue energy that momentarily engulfed the whole ship.

When the afterimages faded Yellow was already in place, breathing a stream of sand that punched into the multiple holes that had been melted and blasted into the bow. With its armor breached the ship had no chance against the attack; the sand blew through the decks and corridors within, shredding the internal workings until it found something critical and the warship toppled from the sky.

"Damn, and here we'd barely gotten warmed up." Lance shook his head. "That was almost anticlimactic."

"Oh, good." Pidge sighed. "At least I don't feel like I missed much." Green was descending with the damaged shuttle's fuselage clamped gently in its jaws. Landing, it placed its catch carefully on the ground, then turned and scowled at Black. Not that the lions were actually capable of facial expressions, but it was definitely scowling. "Fetch. Really."

Lance chuckled. "Get over it, Pidge, just because you're the only one who's mastered doing that without breaking what you're catching doesn't mean it's a skill we have to respect. Fetch is fetch."

"Hmph." The other lion sat back and peered at the ship it had caught. "So uh, we planning to find out what's going on here?"

"Yes, let's." Black Lion landed in front of the ship and knelt to allow Keith to exit the cockpit. After a brief hesitation the other lions joined him, their own pilots disembarking, all eyes on the smoking shuttle.

It took a solid minute for the hatch to open. Partially. "It's broken," Hunk commented lightly as the sliding door stuck at about three inches. "I'll fix it." Moving forward he retrieved the heavy rifle slung over his back and yelled, "Get back from the door, I'm gonna blast it open!"

A flicker of motion was visible from within, and then a low voice called back from inside, "I am clear."

The big engineer leveled the weapon, and the whole door seemed to erupt in a cloud of flame and smoke. After a few more moments, once the oily clouds had mostly cleared, a figure appeared in the doorway and jumped to the ground.

His build and form were human, but he was unlike any human—or Arusian, or any other such similar race—Lance had ever seen or heard of. His sharp violet eyes were flecked with gold, and his hair was a silvery blue that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. Overall the aura he carried was one of dignity and unearthly beauty... almost as if he were not a real person, but some idealistic artist's interpretation of one.

The hair on the back of Lance's neck started prickling.

"My thanks," the stranger said quietly, nodding to Hunk, then turning his attention to Pidge. "And that was quite a nice catch, though I must admit, it's a bit unnerving to be on the receiving end."

"Understandable." The young pilot crossed his arms. "But Green's really not too scary once you get to know him."

That got him an odd look, and Lance couldn't help snickering. He couldn't explain why, but there was something about the newcomer that just didn't sit well with him. Something that made his skin crawl and his blood begin to boil... "Who're you supposed to be?" he demanded, turning his gaze fully on the man.

"Lance!" Allura scowled at him. "Try to show some manners."

_Manners? Seriously?_ He couldn't remember being lectured about manners since boarding school, but decided to let it slide. He could let a whole lot of indignities slide where the princess was involved. "Yeah, sure, sorry."

"It's quite alright," the stranger shrugged. "Suspicion is only natural, given the state of the galaxy these days. You never know who can be trusted."

"True enough," Keith agreed. "The question does remain, who are you?"

"My name is Bokar." He bowed gracefully. "I was once prince of Sennec. But my world is now occupied by the forces of the Ninth Kingdom, and I have been seeking a sanctuary ever since their attack." The violet gaze lowered. "My preference would have been death in combat, but many fine warriors gave their lives to ensure I survived the invasion. I could not let their sacrifice be in vain..." The prince looked back at his wrecked ship with a grimace.

_Sennec_. Lance frowned. He'd heard that name before.

"Vasuki II," Pidge said, as if reading his mind. "The Drules jumped us skipping through there, remember?"

Bokar's looked startled. "You have done battle with the Drule Supremacy as well?"

Rolling his eyes, Lance gestured to the five lions gathered around them, looking down on the proceedings. "These cats aren't just for decoration," he snorted. "Didn't you see what we did to that ship that shot you down? We've been kicking Drules around for months and we aim to keep doing it."

Allura elbowed him. He decided he would make his new goal to get her to elbow him as much as possible; Keith was glaring daggers, and he found it all highly amusing.

Hunk was studying the fallen shuttle. "Well, this thing's just about totaled," he announced. "Just about. Lucky for you, there's nothing me'n Pidge can't fix... but it'll take awhile."

The prince turned his attention to the two engineers, raising an eyebrow. Lance couldn't honestly blame him; the two really did not ooze _technical competence_ to an uninformed observer. "Better believe what he says," he offered with a chuckle. "Don't go by how goofy they look." He'd been hoping Allura would elbow him again for that, but should have known better; it wasn't as if either of the two needed defending. Hunk threw a piece of scrap from the shuttle's blown door in his general direction, and Pidge started tossing a throwing star menacingly.

Bokar had gone from looking skeptical to downright disconcerted, and Keith sighed as he looked over his team. "Okay, you guys. Please stop before you make us all look bad." He approached the prince and held out a hand. "I'm Keith, commander of the Voltron Force. Lance," he gestured to his friend with a slight but still gratifying roll of his eyes, "is right, we've been fighting the Drules for quite some time now."

Smiling, Bokar shook his hand. "A pleasure to meet you. May I ask what planet I'm on?"

Allura stepped forward. "This is Arus; I am Princess Allura. Any who have been harmed by the Drules are welcome here. We'll see to repairing your ship, but you can stay as long as you like."

The prince bowed again. "I am most grateful, Princess."

Somehow, Lance had known that would be coming, but he still didn't like it. Honestly he just wanted to walk up and punch the man right in his way-too-beautiful face, but that would probably be frowned on right now.

Keith had told him to control himself, to take responsibility for his actions. He was at least going to make an attempt. First things first, he would discuss his misgivings with his boss. Quietly. Privately. Once he'd voiced his concerns in a manner befitting a responsible second in command, well...

At least _then_ when he punched this guy in the face, he could say Keith had been warned.

* * *

><p>The Alliance had their nerve. Daring to attack Straton! They were lucky the attack had been repulsed, really. Very little could have inflamed the Ninth Kingdom's upper echelons more than raising Voltron, but if anything could, a successful attack on Straton would do it. The world was home to the First Academy of Refai, where countless noble children learned of war, diplomacy, and honor.<p>

It was an erstwhile student of that academy who approached King Zarkon's throne room, golden eyes sharp, a dark traveling cloak still draped across his muscular shoulders. A student... but also the commander of the forces who'd beaten the Alliance back. And he meant to make his report personally.

"His Lordship is holding formal audiences at this hour," one of the royal guards explained as he reached the heavy iron doors, "but is presently unoccupied. Do you wish to be admitted?"

"Indeed."

"I will require identification—" The cool eyes fixed on him and he froze. Taking the figure in, the pale gray-blue skin, the haughty features, the flowing white hair. And the clasp of his traveling cloak with an unmistakable coat of arms displayed: a wolf perched on a pile of skulls, evading the grasp of twisted thorns at all sides. A personal heraldry that nobody in the castle could fail to recognize. "Ah! My apologies, young lordship. Sergeant-at-arms, see to it."

A second guard appeared out of nowhere, bowed, and led him into the throne room. "Announcing the Prince Imperial of the Ninth Kingdom, Supreme Commander of Straton, Duke of Sincline, Lord of—"

"—Enough already, no need to be here all day," the prince grumbled. "My father knows who I am."

King Zarkon had actually stood, quite a breach of protocol for formal audiences, when his eyes fell on the newcomer. "Lotor!"

Prince Lotor knelt before the throne long enough to satisfy formal requirements, then walked up the stairs and gave his father a brief but warm hug. Such displays were rare, but it _had_ been three years since he'd even set foot on Korrinoth, and the lord of the Ninth Kingdom could hardly just drop all his duties to go visit his son.

The warmth was gone as swiftly as it had been shown. "I trust you have some pressing reason to be here? You're meant to be studying."

"Indeed." Lotor stepped back. "Straton was attacked without warning by an Alliance fleet, but we repulsed the strike easily. I came to give you my report on the battle." His eyes narrowed. "And to request a transfer."

Zarkon stared at him, and the prince couldn't quite suppress a smirk. He'd ordered the remaining authorities at Straton not to send any advance warning of his arrival to Korrinoth; the Alliance had been soundly thrashed, they wouldn't be returning any time soon. The shock on his father's face was every bit as amusing as he'd expected.

"They actually attacked Straton?" the king repeated, and his eyes glowed fiercely. "They're quite serious, then... we received word late last night from both Calimdor and Tairon. Alliance fleets struck both worlds. Calimdor's lunar industries were crippled, and Tairon's defensive fleet was lost outright, but the attack was not one of conquest. They merely bombed the military sites and left."

Lotor did a series of quick calculations in his head. It was mid-afternoon. Last night, by Korrinoth's time, would have been about when Straton was hit. A coordinated assault on a scale not seen for over a decade. And he knew why.

"Father, even engaged in my studies I've been hearing rumors of Voltron. I trust that's what has emboldened the humans to move against us?"

Zarkon frowned, clearly seeing where this was going. "The rumors are quite true, my son, and I assume your logic is correct. Admiral Yurak is dealing with the situation on Arus."

"Quite effectively, obviously."

"I don't want to hear that this is the transfer you're asking for, Lotor."

The prince bared his fangs, just slightly. _Of course it is. What else could it be?_ He found the idea of Voltron fascinating. A terrifying enemy, risen from the depths of a seemingly irrelevant world to carve a swath of destruction through the Ninth Kingdom's mighty armada. Of course the setbacks were unforgivable crimes, crimes which would have to be punished, but...

A grim smile spread across Lotor's face. If he had learned anything from his studies, it was that the Drule Supremacy had become decadent. Soft. Swarming enemy worlds with death from the sky was perhaps more practical, but there was so little glory in it. In the old days, it had simply been a matter of a few champions clashing on the field of combat, evenly matched. Whole planets had changed hands as a result of such battles, and the victors had been revered among friend and foe alike.

Voltron was a worthy champion. And the armada was not doing so well against the lion god, was it? No. The key to vanquishing this enemy _had_ to be a reversion to the old ways. Somewhere in the vast pen complexes of Korrinoth, there had to be a robeast capable of standing against this foe in single combat. The path to victory was there.

"Well, you needn't hear it, father. I don't need to say it, since you've come to the conclusion on your own."

Zarkon scowled. "You haven't even completed your studies. Absolutely not. I have plenty of seasoned warriors without throwing _you_ at the lion knight."

About what he'd expected, really. But he didn't really make a habit of taking no for an answer. "What better way for me to prove myself? Some of the greatest heroes of the Supremacy were unschooled warriors who seized their chance and succeeded—Admiral Yurak himself rose from the ranks of commoners! Surely you wouldn't deny me this opportunity?"

"Surely I would!" his father snapped without hesitation. "Once formal audiences are finished I will hear your report about the battle for Straton, and then you will go to your chambers and make yourself presentable. We'll have a feast prepared tonight in your honor. And perhaps, if your underlings from your previous posting speak well enough of you, I _might_ attach you to Yurak's staff."

Well, that was a start. For now he would take it. Nobody on Straton could claim he'd acquitted himself with anything but skill and honor. "I find that most satisfactory, father." Bowing again, he left the throne room, fangs glinting through his triumphant smile.

* * *

><p>"I don't like him, Keith."<p>

"You don't like anyone who's better-looking than you."

Lance sighed and flopped out on Keith's bed, drawing an odd look. "Dude, you don't understand. The guy is _creepy_. He could give me goosebumps in the Sahara. Hells, he could give me goosebumps in Red Lion's den. Don't tell me he doesn't creep you out too."

"Why are you on my bed?"

"Because it's comfy and you're not on it. Would you take me more seriously if I stood up and saluted the whole time?"

"No."

"Then I'm going to stay here, thank you very much." He crossed his arms, despite the fact he was laying down, and glared at his friend. "Now stop changing the subject. If you tell me this guy doesn't bother you, you're lying. Never mind that he looks like some kind of bizarre art show mannequin, it's too ridiculous. His people were attacked by the Drules, so they shoved him in a ship without so much as a bodyguard and sent him wandering all across the galaxy?"

Keith gave the bed one last mildly irritated look, then pulled a chair over and sat down. "Lance, let me ask you something."

"As long as it's not about how many art show mannequins I've seen in my life."

Mission accomplished; his commander couldn't quite fight down a laugh. "No. Lance, does the princess have any bodyguards?"

"Us, duh."

"Arusian bodyguards. Bodyguards who were still with her after the Drules razed her planet."

_Oh_. He saw where this was going now. "Uh... no, but she's not flying around the Denubian all by her lonesome, either."

"That's not the point and you know it."

Sigh. "Okay. Fine. So they all gave their lives to get their prince off their Drule-occupied planet and you totally buy that excuse, got it. It's still too convenient. He just happens to finally get caught while warping in at the one planet that can save his pretty-boy ass?"

"And he just happens to be from Sennec, the planet where we just happened to try to skip through and get disabled while a Drule invasion fleet was there. Coincidences happen, Lance..." His friend's icy eyes narrowed. "I expect you to be friendly around Prince Bokar. He's a guest of the princess, and he's been through a lot as it is. Understand?"

Well, he really hadn't expected much else. Sometimes Keith was too damned idealistic for his own good, let alone anyone else's. "Fine. Got it."

"One other thing."

"What's that?"

"If you happen to get friendly enough that you can keep a close eye on him without drawing his suspicions, so much the better."

_...Knew you couldn't be quite that dense._

Lance grinned. "Nooo problem. Friendly is my middle name."

"I thought it was Charles?"

"I try not to admit that."

"Okay, we'll forget it. Now get out of here, I want my bed back."

* * *

><p>Four Drules met in a tavern in a shadowy corner of Esselos, the capital of Korrinoth. This was not a good part of town—even this city under the watchful eye of Nightstone Fortress had its rough places. It was no place for anyone of stature to deign to enter, and that was why these four were there. Little danger of being recognized, even less of being interrupted.<p>

Yurak cut his usual imposing figure even out of uniform; the implant that served as his right eye did wonders for keeping people away. Lirik was sitting to his right, and they could easily have been mistaken for siblings—the same deep blue skin, similar rough features. At her other side, a grizzled old Drule whose pale gray skin was covered in scars was already on his third glass, but his eyes remained sharp. Snuff seemed to be all but immune to the powers of alcohol.

The final member of the group would have struck an outside observer as odd; her blue skin had a greenish tinge, and its scaled texture was unmistakable. Captain Sarena was the daughter of political refugees from the Third Kingdom, and her loyalty to the Ninth was fierce indeed. She had risen to command the battleship _Bloodfire_, the most powerful ship in the fleet besides the _Death Defiant_ itself, through a mix of ruthlessness and efficiency.

"The spy we have in place is a coward," she muttered now. "He lurks within the heart of the enemy, yet refuses to slay them simply because it would be a suicide mission."

Snuff seemed unconcerned. "What more d'ya expect from a cowardly snake? Can't ask much more of animals."

"Perhaps not, but I hope King Zarkon has him executed when he returns. Just to make a point."

Yurak frowned, but said nothing. He abhorred the idea of politicians second-guessing those in the field. Though this case did seem fairly clear cut... if the spy were a Drule. Since he wasn't, why should he be expected to sacrifice his life for the Ninth Kingdom? Only fear of death kept such vermin in line in the first place.

"It would matter very little if the spy killed all of them at this point," Lirik shrugged, taking a sip of her tea. She avoided alcohol in any form, except for immediately after a victory. And it had been a long time since they'd had a victory. "Our people had their hopes up, and those hopes were shattered. Even those who doubted the reality of Voltron before are now convinced we face the true lion god. Kill the humans, and more will rise."

"Indeed." Yurak sighed. Superstitious nonsense, but how could he really blame them? Fate did seem to have intervened for the enemy in nearly every battle. "So let's return to the purpose of this meeting. The problem is as Lirik says, and this is the problem we must solve. I'll hear your suggestions now."

"This assignment ain't normal," Snuff pointed out after a minute of silence. "Never seen one go on so long. His Highness likes to shuffle people around if they haven't succeeded for a month or so, what're we doing still on Arus? Ask for a reassignment."

The admiral glowered, though he knew his helmsman was correct. There was no stigma attached to such reassignments, so long as they didn't become a habit. Sometimes a certain mission required a certain touch and that was that. But he was the highest ranking officer in the Ninth Kingdom's armada, and he wasn't about to admit defeat.

Besides... "Do you really believe anyone else would do better? This is not a command issue. Rumors spread quickly, and aren't restricted to just our fleet."

Snuff saluted his commander with his whiskey before draining the glass. "True enough, sir, was just a thought. But it's still a little weird that we haven't been pulled off anyway."

"It _is_ that." Lirik leaned forward. "I do not favor abandoning the mission either. But if we remain on this assignment, bringing the morale of the troops back is going to require some drastic action. I doubt any minor defeat of the lion god or his minions will suffice."

"Lirik's right," Sarena agreed. "The only way to defeat Voltron is to first disarm him. Nothing else is going to stick so long as our warriors are so frightened..." She trailed off, eyes flickering with a greenish glow. "Though I don't know what else can be _done_ on that count. You've told them the truth a hundred times, and attempting to prove it just backfired horribly."

True. It was all true. And Lirik's words rang especially powerfully in his mind. Drastic action. He'd used plenty of that in his time. But this assignment was so far beyond any unorthodox tactic he'd ever had to use before... perhaps it required tactics that were equally desperate.

As his three closest advisors continued to debate, Yurak listened in silence, sinking deeper and deeper into his own thoughts. A plan was starting to shape up in his own mind.

It was a plan they wouldn't like at all.


	4. Snake in the Grass

**Arusian Crusade: Changing Tides**  
>Chapter 3: Snake in the Grass<p>

_I feel like it's been a rather long time since I typed 'thanks for the reviews', so, thanks for the reviews! And enjoy!_

* * *

><p>Breakfast at the Castle of Lions was always a somewhat chaotic event, and it was no different just because they had company. No matter what kind of company it was. Hunk and Nanny started the day off the way they always did, by arguing over who was handling which part of the morning meal. It was usually considered a victory for Hunk if he was allowed to do <em>anything;<em> today he'd enlisted Pidge and the mice to barricade the kitchen unless Nanny let him pitch in.

Wasn't this supposed to be a very serious mission that placed them on the front lines against the Drules? Why was he standing in a doorway, with a team of robotic mice backing him up, for nothing but a bribe of chocolate cupcakes?

_...Because chocolate cupcakes. Right. You're a hopeless addict, Pidge_.

Soon enough the castle matron approached and halted, staring at the small pilot, as two emerald eyes and a spectrum of glowing optic sensors stared back at her. "What are you doing here? Let me in my kitchen."

"Sorry. No can do."

"Ach, none of this nonsense today, please." She turned and shot an evil look at the big engineer standing behind her, chuckling and not doing anything at all to pretend he wasn't responsible for the current situation. "We have a _guest_ in the castle, Hunk, and royalty at that! We must make him feel welcome."

"Yeah, I know, that's why I should be doing the cooking."

"Why you... fine! You cook the eggs, and woe betide you if a single yolk breaks. Now get these rodents out of my way!"

Pidge glowered. "Who're you calling a rodent?" His indignation was somewhat undermined by the fact that the two mice perching on his shoulders squeak-clicked in agreement. "...Yeah yeah, we're going. And by the way, I like my yolks broken." He shot Nanny a quick salute and moved away from the door before she could slap him.

Not that he wouldn't have deserved it, of course.

The rest of the team was standing in the hallway, their expressions showing varying degrees of amusement and exasperation—most of the former from Lance, most of the latter from Keith. Prince Bokar had appeared at some point in the exchange as well, and watched the proceedings with some confusion.

"Don't mind them," Allura giggled. "This happens every morning."

Coran nodded, watching as the three mice who weren't on Pidge's shoulders dispersed. "You'll find we are quite informal in the Castle of Lions. With so few survivors, decorum just hasn't seemed like a priority."

"I can understand that." Bokar gave the two remaining mice a curious look. "May I ask, though... what are those?"

"Diagnostic units," Pidge answered promptly.

"Team mascots," Lance said at the same time.

"Mice," Keith said simply.

The prince blinked, and seemed to decide it wasn't worth trying to ask anything further, but Pidge beckoned for him to approach. "There's a mouse for each lion," he explained as their pale-haired guest drew near, "they help us with the tech work. We named 'em all after cheeses; these two are Colby and Blue." The green-eyed mouse on his left shoulder clicked happily, waving a paw in greeting. On his right shoulder, Blue gave a sharp squeak and arched her back, displaying the gaping hole in her metal skin and the wires poking out of her shattered tail.

She'd probably have bitten Bokar pretty badly, if she could be bothered to leave the safety of the little engineer's shoulder.

"Heyyy," Lance smirked, reaching out and patting the mouse's scarred head. "Why've you got to be so hostile, Blue?"

"Skriik!"

"Don't mind her, she's a little antisocial these days," Pidge explained quietly as the prince took a step back. "Hasn't been the same since she took some combat damage last week."

A startled look. _"Combat_ damage?"

Everyone went silent; Pidge winced. He didn't really want to have to explain how that had come about. But he could see nobody else was interested in answering the question either, and he supposed it was his own fault they'd gotten to the topic...

Mercifully, Nanny chose that moment to appear in the doorway again. "Enough with the standing around! You," she pointed at him with a scowl, "go and set the table, you need to make yourself useful after conspiring with that _oaf_ who can't even crack an egg properly—"

"—_Relax_, Lady Nanny! I haven't broken any, have I?"

Pidge removed himself from the situation and went looking for dishes, listening to Nanny admonish the others about standing in the hallway rather than sitting in the dining room to talk like civilized people, and chuckled. He'd always felt civilization was overrated.

"Colby, you've got the forks," he ordered. "And I _dare_ Nanny to say anything about it."

* * *

><p>Breakfast itself was fairly uneventful. Or at least, uneventful other than Nanny trying to stab Pidge with a fork at the beginning of the meal, yelling something about mice not belonging on the table.<p>

The team dispersed as usual after eating; Lance noted their guest looking a bit lost, and decided that was probably his cue. _Be friendly and keep an eye on him. Righty then, let's get started. _"So, Prince Bokar, you want a tour?"

That got him a look of such gratitude he almost felt guilty about his suspicions. Almost. But the chills still creeping down his spine did away with that. "Would you mind?"

"Not at all, c'mon."

Truthfully, Lance mused, he was going to feel like a terrible jerk if Bokar turned out to be in the clear. After all, he knew plenty about being lost in a strange place, a lone refugee from another planet... he should have been sympathetic to the prince's plight. The fact that he _wasn't_ did as much to set off his radar as anything else.

Something was still just _off_.

"So you've seen the kitchen and dining room. The hangar is down that way," he explained, pointing down a side corridor. "I do not recommend going anywhere near there ever, because Pidge is _always_ there, and if he catches you he'll recruit you to do something scientific and give you a headache." Deciding it was probably best for his commander to see him at work, he took a sharp right after a few yards. "The command center's this way."

"Command center." Bokar's violet eyes darted over each doorway they passed, taking in everything, as though he'd never seen a castle before. Which would not surprise Lance at all, really.

"Yep. Keith's hangout, mostly... and sure enough." As they entered castle control, his friend glanced up from the consoles, arching an eyebrow at the two in the doorway. "Just playing tour guide, chief, don't mind us."

The prince nodded a greeting to the commander, but was mostly focused on the colored doors around the edges of the room. "What's all of this, if I might ask?"

Lance opened his mouth to say something snarky about how obviously he _could_ ask, but Keith beat him to speaking. "The lions launch from here."

Actually, he wasn't too sure their guest needed to know that, but it could be funny if he tried to investigate further. Certainly Red Lion would be happy to eat this creep's face. Maybe he should try to arrange that... _nah, might get me in trouble. We'll save that one_. "What he said. That's why we call it castle control, even though it doesn't really control the castle because that would be pretty much weird. Moving on!"

He caught a faint smirk from Keith as he left, and couldn't help agreeing with the sentiment. Here he was, expert pilot and professional Drule killer, relegated to herding exiled royalty around the castle. But it was about to all be worth it...

The next doorway led outside.

"This is the courtyard." He went ahead and walked out into the grassy space, gesturing to the paved areas first. "We have cookouts out here sometimes, and if you think Hunk and Nanny were going at it at breakfast, you ought to see them around a campfire. They're both nuts." Circling around the yard, he brought his companion to the sneering burlap sack residing there. "And this is Strawman."

Bokar cocked his head. "Strawman?"

"Yeah, he's our training dummy. We thought the name suited him."

The prince approached the dummy tentatively and poked it a few times, then nodded. "Yes, I _do_ see how it would be apt."

"Go on, give 'im a punch or two, there's no way you can resist that face." Lance offered his most challenging grin along with the words. The prince was pretty, no doubt, but something about his prettiness seemed like it was just screaming _sissy_. Of course, he knew better than to judge someone by their appearance. Best to give Bokar the opportunity to prove he wasn't as soft as he looked.

Or fail to prove it. That would also be entirely acceptable.

Giving the dummy a doubtful look, Bokar stepped forward and nodded. Quickly—so quick Lance outright missed the first move that must have been there—he lunged and slammed one fist, then the other, into Strawman's smirking face with enough force to shake his pole.

_Huh. Speed sniper_. "Not bad," Lance admitted grudgingly.

The prince rubbed his knuckles with a grimace. "I can see how you would learn to dislike him very quickly, really."

"Yeah." Lance cast him a curious look. "Trained you in punching things back on Sennec, huh?"

"Of course. Our monarchy has... or _had_... a long and glorious martial tradition." He sighed and it was really hard not to feel sorry for him. Maybe... no. Even as sympathy was _trying_ to burrow its way into Lance's chest, he felt his hair standing on end again. "Little use against warships and robeasts."

"Yeah," he agreed with a nod that was not entirely without empathy regardless. But he liked this new development because it meant he had an excuse for what he'd been wanting to do since Bokar first showed up on Arus. If they were sparring he could surely be forgiven for punching this guy right in his pretty face, couldn't he? "Want to go a couple rounds with me? Let's see what you've got."

One pale eyebrow raised, and he got the same exact doubtful look Strawman had been graced with a few moments ago. "You're certain?"

_Did I not sound certain? _"Let's do it."

Nodding, the prince dropped into a martial stance, one Lance couldn't quite identify but he wasn't even all up on his Earth martial arts, never mind whatever they did on Sennec. He readied himself, tensing, waiting.

And Bokar... vanished.

Lance froze, staring at the space where the prince had been, stunned into stillness for a moment. Only a moment, because the next second he sensed a presence behind and slightly above him, whirling just in time to take one of his opponent's boots to his chest.

"Oof!" He scrambled to his feet, gasping for breath. "What was _that?"_

The gold flecks in the prince's eyes glinted and a slight smirk played across his face. "I do apologize, I should have warned you of that." He sounded amused. Sincere, oddly enough, but amused. "My people mix sorcery with our martial arts. I ought to have held back, but, force of habit."

_Hmph_. "You don't need to hold back on _my_ account, pal."

"If you insist." And he was gone again.

Wise to the trick now, Lance spun around, had time to see the air ripple and the prince reappear just in front of him. This time he was ready. Not to block the attack, oh no. Blocking was for people with superior tactical sense. He preferred to let his fists do his thinking as well as his talking. After all, if even _he_ didn't know what he was planning, his opponent couldn't hope to read it.

He jumped and they met in midair, both his fists slamming into Bokar's stomach, the prince's knee striking his throat. Both went down hard, tumbling in opposite directions and glaring as they regained their footing.

A silvery aura was gathering around the prince. "Well played." He raced forward, throwing a punch that Lance dodged easily—too easily—he caught the feint a second too late and managed to roll halfway out of the incoming scissor kick... but only halfway. A sharp pain shot through the back of his neck and he went down with a hiss.

_I really hate this guy._

He jumped to his feet in time to see Bokar bearing down on him, pressing his advantage, eyes zeroed in fiercely. "Not played well enough," the prince added coolly, dropping a shoulder and landing a solid blow to his chest.

"I think that's sufficient."

Both jumped; Lance had not realized they had spectators, and from the way Bokar's eyes widened it was clear he hadn't either. Keith and Allura were standing behind them in workout clothes, and the commander was scowling straight at his auburn-haired subordinate. "Oh, hi chief."

"Playing tour guide, hmm?"

"Well, yeah. Introduced him to Strawman and things went from there. Stupid dummy just really makes people want to start punching each other, y'know how it is..."

Allura started to laugh and cut herself off quickly when Keith shot her a dark look. "Princess, would you mind finishing the tour off? I've got to have a little talk with my second in command."

Wordlessly, the princess motioned for Bokar to follow her and the two vanished from the courtyard. Maybe it was her castle, but everyone knew not to argue with Keith when he got that crackle of lightning in his eyes...

"So, Lance." He crossed his arms. "What would you have done if I _hadn't_ told you to be friendly?"

"Probably shot him."

"I'm sorry I asked."

Lance sighed and looked back toward the courtyard. "I really hate that guy."

"I'd noticed."

"He's trouble, Keith. Trust me on this."

Keith studied him for a few moments, pale eyes cool and appraising. Then he nodded. "Trust, but verify, as they say. For both of you. I'm going to send a request to the Alliance for intel; they were in talks with Sennec before it was attacked, and should know if this Prince Bokar is the real deal. Until then, though..." He turned away. "Show a little restraint and stop provoking him so much."

"Tell _him_ to stop provoking _me_."

"I highly doubt he's provoking you."

"Sure he is. He's breathing."

Sigh. "I'm going to look into your concerns, Lance, but don't push your luck. Your duty as second is to make my job _easier_, not harder. If you can't handle that..."

Lance grimaced. Here he'd thought his duty as second was to raise issues his boss might not have noticed or thought of. Oh, and to occasionally kick ass on his behalf. "If you're looking for a yes man you may as well promote someone else, chief. Sven wouldn't have taken this crap from you, and I'm sure as all the hells not going to."

At the mention of Sven, Keith stiffened even more than he'd already been frozen up from his new second's criticism. He just stood there for a solid minute, silent, and then the tension slowly began to drain away. "...Yeah. You're right." Another sigh. "Sorry, Lance. I just..."

"I know. You're lost without him, and you don't think I'm much of a substitute. But I could've told you that to begin with. Actually I'm pretty sure I _did_ tell you that to begin with, but you asked for it and now you're getting it."

Wince. "True enough. And I still mean what I said at the time. I need you to do this. Even if both of us hate it, I need you to do this."

_Even if both of us hate it? Yeah, fair enough._ Lance stepped forward and touched his arm. "Didn't say I was quitting. Don't worry, Keith. I'll be a pain in your ass no matter what title you're giving me, so I guess you may as well keep me your _official_ pain in the ass, huh?"

His friend actually chuckled. "I suppose so."

* * *

><p>"This Sennecite warp tech is interesting," Hunk commented as he poked around inside the wrecked shuttle's engine. "Kinda brilliant, actually. Super high-efficiency solar converters, low energy demand. Can't hit very high speeds, but oughta be able to go pretty much indefinitely without having to land. Explains how he's been sneaking around the Denubian this long."<p>

Pidge made a vague noise of acknowledgment; he was attempting to fix one of the oddly hinged ailerons by looking at the one on the other wing, which meant he was spending more time running circles around the ship than actually doing work. They probably shouldn't have reattached the severed wing until they'd completely fixed it, but at the time keeping the craft balanced had seemed more important.

Hindsight being what it was, and all.

"You wanna call a couple of the mice in, little buddy? Might be easier than doing laps."

"Yeah, might." His tone was distant, and he didn't actually look up from the dented hinge he was filing. The words had not registered in the least.

Hunk sighed. No sense trying to get through to Pidge when he was in the zone. "Have it your way." Returning his attention to the engine, he was distracted a few moments later by the faint clicking of metal claws on concrete. "Hey, speak of the devil! ...In more ways than one," he added when the reddish glow of the newcomer's eyes became visible.

A muffled squeak answered him and Pepper Jack trotted fully into view, steel incisors clamped tightly around something thin and green that was trailing two feet behind him. It was enough to get Pidge's attention, even. "Is that seriously...?"

The mouse laid the dead cobra at Pidge's feet and chittered proudly.

Both engineers just gave him a blank stare for a minute. Of course the robot rodents could be a little bit eccentric at times, but hunting the local wildlife? That seemed extreme. "O... kay." Hunk moved forward and took the snake, since his companion was still just gawking at it like he'd never seen such a thing in his life. Which, in fairness, he probably hadn't. "Don'tcha know snakes _eat_ mice, Pepper Jack? Don't go tempting fate."

The mouse gave a series of indignant squeaks, and Pidge giggled. "Yeah, that's true."

"What'd he say?"

"He said he's made out of metal."

"Yeah, well. So's Blue, doesn't stop _her_ from lookin' like a rodent Terminator these days."

"What's a rodent terminator? Is that a kind of snake too?"

"...Are you serious?" Sometimes Hunk still forgot how truly under-educated about such important things his little friend was. "The Terminator movies are ancient _classics_, Pidge. We're gonna have to fix this gaping hole in your life."

"Yeah, remember how we're in another galaxy? I'm sure Keith won't give us any odd looks when we try to requisition old movies from the Alliance."

"What he doesn't know won't hurt us. Smuggle 'em in with those wristcomps you've been threatening to call in for a month."

"Too late. Shipment's on its way. I sent the request last week, it seemed like we could do with some form of personal comms after... uh... you know."

Hunk knew. _Good point_. Nodding his understanding, he returned his attention to the snake before they had to elaborate on the subject.

Reptiles weren't really something he knew a lot about. Birds he was good with; despite his best efforts to ignore his brothers when they got started, quite a lot had seeped into his brain through proximity. Snakes? Forget it. The best he could do was say if certain campsites on Earth had any poisonous ones nearby or not. Maybe all snakes were like this, but he couldn't help thinking...

The cobra Pepper Jack had dragged in seemed a little evil-looking.

"It doesn't make sense, though," Pidge was frowning, looking at the snake again also. "The mice almost never leave the castle on their own. And if we've got snakes _in_ the castle, we have really messed something up."

Another good point. Though there were several areas inside the castle that were still half-scorched stretches of gaping emptiness—not much point repairing rooms nobody would be using—they had sealed up the outside quite thoroughly. Things from out there should not be in here. Especially not snaky things with no arms or legs that definitely couldn't climb up the walls the way the metal mice could.

"So where'd you find this, little dude?"

With a squeak and a twitch of his tail, Pepper Jack signaled for them to follow. Exchanging a shrug with Pidge, Hunk figured this was higher priority right now. Cobra infestations were bad news. The shuttle could wait.

* * *

><p>The tour of the castle had finished in relative silence; Prince Bokar had seemed nervous, perhaps even slightly ashamed, and taken in everything wordlessly as Allura showed him around. She could understand that, though she didn't find it terribly necessary. Sparring was sparring. The princess herself had some bruises in rather un-ladylike places from her combat training, it just went with the territory, didn't it?<p>

A storm was gathering outside, and she moved to the nearest observation deck to watch the clouds building a layer of shadow in the sky. She'd been there for probably five minutes when footsteps approached, along with a faint aura of unease that she'd quickly come to recognize.

"Princess?"

She motioned vaguely for Bokar to approach. "What's wrong?" No need to bother asking _if_ something was wrong. Right after asking it she remembered that some people found that unnerving, but if the prince was bothered by the presumption he didn't comment on it.

"I was meaning to apologize," he explained. "I didn't mean to cause such a scene with your warrior, I got carried away."

Allura nodded. "It's alright. Sometimes Lance needs to be reminded of his own limitations. I'd much rather it be from you than from some warship or robeast in real combat..." She grimaced and returned her gaze to the sky.

"May I join you?"

"Of course." She moved aside, giving him space to lean on the railing next to her, and watched his violet eyes drift out over the desert. He looked troubled. "Is something wrong?"

"Just remembering. Your sands here are beautiful... Sennec was a desert world." Sigh. "Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say it _is_ a desert world, but it's difficult to think of it in the present tense, with my people gone and Drules crawling all over the surface."

That made sense. Painfully so. "I understand. Even here I sometimes find myself thinking of two different planets. The Arus that is, and the Arus that was."

Bokar nodded, giving a soft hiss of sympathy. "Your world is remarkable, Princess Allura. I've never heard of a planet razed by the Drules bouncing back so quickly, and it's said so few recover at all."

His words brought a wince. It must look so wonderful from the outside. Arus rebuilding, the people so hopeful and unbroken. Not knowing the tenuous state their guardian was in. "I only hope it remains that way when the Drules return."

"Indeed? It sounds like you've been holding out easily."

"So far, yes, but you've arrived at a time of... transition. You saw the lions."

"Yes. Formidable machines."

"Much more than machines. They're wise and mystical; they have their own souls. And when the battle becomes desperate they can combine to form a knight far more powerful than the sum of its parts. A knight named Voltron."

She thought she felt a slight flicker in Bokar's aura. He mostly carried an air of tentative curiosity; the princess imagined she would feel the same way if she were a refugee on an alien world. As she mentioned Voltron something seemed to shake him, something she couldn't sense and place quickly enough. Surprise, most likely. It _was_ a startling truth.

"So this... Voltron... is what has protected your world from the Ninth Kingdom's forces?"

"Yes. So far." Sigh. "We lost Blue Lion's pilot last week—the pilot the lion was properly bound to, I mean. I've been trying to fill in for him, but it isn't working out very well. The lion... doesn't like me." She waited that out for a few moments, letting his mind wrap around the concept, then continued. "I haven't been able to help form Voltron. And the lions are powerful on their own, but we _need_ Voltron to keep holding out."

He considered that for a long moment. "It's difficult to grasp what you're saying. The idea of a spacecraft being sentient, I mean." He looked from the sand to the gathering clouds. "But surely the lion will come to its senses soon, will it not?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. I don't even know what it wants from me." She shook her head, then gave Bokar a sharp look. The exiled prince was looking for a sanctuary, he'd said. A home, perhaps. And he must hate the Drules as much as any of them, if not more. She wondered... "Maybe I'm being selfish, thinking I'm the only person who can do this job. Maybe if I fail Blue would accept someone else more easily."

The prince frowned. "Forgive my presumption, but with that determination in your voice... I can't see how you could possibly fail."

Determination. Yes, she could certainly master that, but she didn't seem to be able to show much _else_ to the lion that was so harshly judging her. "I appreciate that, Prince Bokar, but I wish I could be as confident as you are." She gave him a sidelong look. "If things continue to go so badly for me, would you be willing... to let me introduce the two of you?"

He pulled back. Startled, but also something else, something too fleeting for her to identify. "I... I'm not much of a pilot, Princess, to be quite honest. But if you feel that is best, after the way your world has welcomed me, of course I would make the attempt."

Allura nodded. "Thank you. I'm not ready to give up yet, but... I feel better knowing that someone else will be there if I fail." She hated being so pessimistic, really. But with the way things had gone so far, the specter of failure simply refused to leave her thoughts.

They watched the storm continue to gather in silence.

* * *

><p>During formal audiences, the throne room was empty of courtiers and observers. The formality and decorum were signs of respect between the king and whichever subject he was deigning to meet with personally; they were not for the benefit of any onlookers. And often such audiences involved quite sensitive topics that were the business of no other.<p>

A side effect of this arrangement was that in the few minutes after formal audiences ended, the room remained mostly empty as the usual denizens slowly trickled back in. Zarkon liked these moments of relative quiet and privacy; there were days he really wanted to just clear the room and leave himself. The formal duties of his position never gave him much pleasure.

Sometimes he'd rather have been commanding a fleet again.

Today his chief advisor was very late in returning to her place at his side. He envied her for that freedom, but also knew she was hardly out conducting leisure activities. Perhaps she was consulting with Sarga, or something else may have come up...

As he was contemplating Haggar's absence she appeared before him, with Coba at her side. "Sire. The serpent's first report is in." She was turning a comm crystal over slowly in her fingers, studying its glittering surface. "He has given us the answers we sought."

"So quickly?"

The witch nodded. "The human I defeated was apparently the pilot of Blue Lion, and they do refer to him as being lost. The princess of Arus has begun to fly Blue Lion in his place." Her eyes glowed softly. "But she has not found the Destroyer's favor. While she is capable of piloting the lion itself, she cannot form Voltron. The knight remains out of commission."

Well. That was _most_ interesting. "This situation is expected to continue?"

"The princess herself seems to feel it will." A pause. "They have accepted the serpent easily, very easily. He reports that he has been asked to take the Blue Lion if its new pilot cannot find the favor of the Destroyer soon. I must suggest we at least consider this option."

Zarkon frowned. Given what Haggar had said before about re-weaving fate, he very much doubted their spy could ever be so worthy; the serpent was pretty much a craven fool. Then again, the king still didn't much believe in destiny. "What good would that do?"

"If a pilot in our service _were_ to be accepted, even a single lion would be a powerful addition to our armada. You've seen their strength."

True enough. But the mere thought made his guts coil with disgust, not to mention the idea of any part of the hated Voltron bowing to Sarga's faithful seemed very unlikely indeed. Drules of the Ninth Kingdom fighting alongside lions? Preposterous. "No." He spoke with finality. "I have no interest in such a demon serving us, Haggar. If our spy is able to take control of one, it will be only to fly it to an incinerator."

"Of course, sire." The witch bowed. "It was merely a suggestion. In that case, I suggest we act on this information as quickly as possible, lest the princess succeed in gaining the Blue Lion's trust."

"Indeed. Before I send a force to Arus, is there any more to the report?"

"Only general observations of the humans. He is unimpressed by their discipline, but says they are skilled and very close. The loss of Blue Lion's pilot has clearly affected them, though of course he cannot say how the team functioned before." She offered him the crystal. "The full report is here. Aside from the lions and the castle's turrets, he is unaware of any other major defenses on Arus." After a hesitation she added, eyes dimming slightly in a curious frown, "However, as a caution to any ground forces we may wish to send, the castle also seems to be infested with metal mice which can engage in combat."

Metal _mice?_ Weren't metal lions bad enough? "Forget about ground troops. The more I hear about this planet, the happier I'll be when everything on it is reduced to ash from above." Coba yowled, and the king chuckled. "Or perhaps we should capture the mice for your cat to play with?"

"Myaak-ak-ak," the cat said as if it actually understood his words. "Mraow!"

Haggar's eyes widened, and she traced one twisted finger along the golden scar on her familiar's forehead. "It seems Coba has seen these mice before," she said softly. "Yes, indeed, my pet... you'll have your revenge as well, won't you?"

"Myaaow!"

Zarkon studied the cat for a moment and decided not to even ask. "Go relay new orders to the serpent. He's to remain in place until the lions are destroyed; the fleet will extract him before opening fire on the castle." A flicker in his eyes. The serpent was a particularly insufferable specimen of vermin, and his usefulness to the Ninth Kingdom was nearly at an end. "Or perhaps it won't."

The witch understood, nodding as she turned away. "Of course, sire."

* * *

><p>The team had gathered in castle control with the intention of getting another training run in, but things had changed when the engineers showed up with a mouse and its bizarre prey.<p>

"Pepper Jack brought it in," Hunk was explaining, as the group studied the dead cobra laid out on one of the consoles. The red-eyed mouse gave a satisfied squeak. Nanny looked pale, Coran looked concerned, and Allura was staring at the creature with a deeply thoughtful expression. "We asked him where he found it and he took us to one of the air vents."

Bokar swallowed; he looked about as pale as Nanny as he examined the snake. Keith noted that with mild interest. "Did you find any others?" The prince's voice was slightly nervous.

"Nah, but we didn't look too far. We'd have to go through the vents, and even Pidge isn't quite that tiny. We've got the other mice scouting for any entry points though, shouldn't be any way for snakes to get in here. Not unless they can climb walls."

"What's the matter, Prince Bokar?" Lance asked in a tone that was just on the border between playful and mocking. "Surely you're not scared of slimy slithery things?" The question got him a scowl from the prince and an elbow from his commander.

"Hey now. Even I'm scared of slimy slithery _poisonous_ things _in our air vents_," Pidge commented lightly, which ended that train of conversation before it could really go anywhere. The commander gave him a grateful look which was studiously ignored.

On the one hand, the whole team dwelling on some rogue wildlife struck Keith as a little bit of a waste of time. On the other, Hunk was right. There should be no way for such creatures to get into the castle, and if dumb animals could do it, it was only a matter of time before the Drules figured it out also... Lance had mentioned Haggar using a cat to help her ambush last week, after all. But until the mice found how the snake had gotten in, there was very little they could do about it, regardless.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Coran." Allura spoke slowly, as if she were still putting the thoughts together inside her own mind. "But I didn't think there were any snakes native to this continent."

The advisor shook his head. "No, that's entirely correct. And so far as I know, there are no species of cobra native to Arus at all."

..._Oh_. Well _that_ threw a whole new wrench into things. Still little they could do until the mice found the hole, but suddenly he didn't want to leave the castle unprotected. But this couldn't put a halt to everything... "Okay. Lance and I will go out with Allura. Hunk, Pidge, I'm leaving you two in here to find the breach. Report anything suspicious and protect the castle with your lives."

Pidge saluted him with a throwing star; Hunk pushed Pepper Jack toward the nearest vent.

Prince Bokar still looked uneasy, but Keith could hardly blame him. Some mad sanctuary Arus was turning out to be. But at least, whatever the Drules were up to, they were onto it now. As long as they could stay a step ahead of things they had hope.

* * *

><p>"My lord." Yurak appeared in the throne room much more quietly than the last time he'd been here. Subdued, almost. Zarkon had been about to summon him anyway, and studied his warrior with interest as he knelt before the throne. "I have a request."<p>

Frown. _What this time?_ Yurak only made requests when he was plotting something unconventional, often desperate. Like assassinations, and that hadn't gone according to plan at all.

He knew the admiral's patience had been wearing thin as his battles against Voltron saw nothing but failure after failure, and the debacle with the Blue Lion's pilot was nearly the last straw. Truthfully, the thought of pulling him off the assignment _had_ occurred to the king more than once. Rage and frustration might be clouding his greatest commander's abilities; perhaps it was time for new steel to take on the task.

But Yurak had earned the respect he was given, earned it through hundreds of victories and his own blood. He deserved this last chance. And whatever favor he might wish to ask, Zarkon could at least hear it out. "I'm listening."

"I wish to face Voltron on the field of battle... on equal footing. Personally."

_Interesting idea. Implausible, but interesting. _He cocked his head, eyes narrowing. "Admiral, the only way to grant that request would be to have you transformed into a robeast."

"Yes, lord."

All the air seemed to be sucked out of the throne room for an instant, as gasps of disbelief rippled through the petty nobles gathered there. Zarkon suppressed any physical reaction, but he shared the sentiment, and if he'd had a little less self control his shock would have been just as audible as anyone else's.

For a minute he wasn't even sure he'd correctly comprehended what he'd heard. The idea was absurd—so absurd it _couldn't_ simply be heard as the clear request it was. Robeasts were weapons, tools, beasts of burden at their greatest. Drules did not undergo such transformations except as a truly egregious punishment. The process was meant for lesser creatures. Yurak may have suffered many setbacks since Voltron had awakened on Arus, but he was certainly no _lesser creature_. And if he was turned into a robeast, his formidable command skills could be lost—an outcome the king did not much care for.

Besides, he hadn't heard the latest reports yet. "This is unnecessary, Admiral. Our spy has informed us that while all of the lions are active, they cannot combine into Voltron."

The admiral considered this for a few seconds. "Permit me to speak bluntly, my lord."

"Of course."

"I've no faith in anything we hear from spies, the witch, or the humans themselves. Voltron's come up with too many miracles already."

He had a fair point there, really. Zarkon laced his fingers together, raising an eyebrow. "I suppose I can't dispute your outlook. But what good will turning you into a robeast serve? As fine a warrior as you are, dueling isn't your specialty. There are many others better suited to such a task."

"Others who might fight with more skill, but skill isn't what's needed right now." Yurak shook his head. "My warriors are _terrified_, lord. They cower before the demon, they let the old legends cloud their better judgment. I've been struggling against my own troops nearly as much as I've been fighting the lion knight! This mess with the fallen pilot has only doubled their fear of the myths; one more setback and they may break completely. Even if we destroy the lions they won't believe they're truly gone."

"That seems to merely call for a reassignment."

"No! You can't imagine any other fleet will fare differently." The admiral's ocular implant glowed brightly for a moment. "Someone has to set an example. It isn't enough to tell them the truth, they have to _see_ the truth. So let me fight. Let me rip the fear of damnation from the devil's arsenal, and all else will follow."

The admiral was determined to carry this out. Perhaps too determined, but then, Zarkon could hardly blame him for his persistence. After all the defeats he'd suffered, the many ships and warriors he'd lost, the mere thought of personally avenging his fleet must be attractive. Never mind his stated reasoning, which was sound, if pessimistic. Too pessimistic. "I will consider this course of action. Go to Haggar. You may consult with her on the matter for now, but no more."

"As you command, lord." Yurak bowed and left.

Zarkon watched him go, decision already made. _No_. This would not be permitted... yet. But one more miracle out of Voltron, and his opinion might change. And he realized he fully expected such a miracle to occur, though he was furious at himself for the thought.

Yes, the lion god was taking its toll on all of them...

Snarling, he stood and glowered at those assembled in the throne room. "Get out of here, all of you," he growled at the courtiers, who looked at him for less than a second before realizing precisely how much business he meant. Within half a minute the room was clear, and the king bared his fangs in a slight, gratified smile. Decorum and the duties of royalty were all well and good, but when the lord of Korrinoth demanded solitude, who would dare argue? Anything he wished was his.

Except Arus. Except Voltron broken before him. But that would come in time.

Leaving his scepter on the throne Zarkon headed for the depths of Nightstone Fortress, the military's domain. It had been a long time since he'd tested his skills, even on simulators. Much too long. Perhaps a few rounds there would ease his mind.


	5. Last Chance

**Arusian Crusade: Changing Tides**  
>Chapter 4: Last Chance<p>

* * *

><p>The stress of a new pilot and a new guest in the castle had already been gnawing at the team, and cobras in the air vents didn't help anything. Hunk decided it was time for a team-building exercise to take a bit of the edge off; Keith agreed easily. Surprisingly easily, but then, their commander really was good about getting his finger on the pulse of his team.<p>

He just wasn't always sure what to _do_ with that pulse once he had it. But that was okay; that was what he had teammates for.

Last time they'd done dedicated team-building, they had been the Arus Expeditionary Force, but it seemed like the same basic principles ought to apply. Camping was always a good plan, no matter what planet you were on. Of course, last time they'd done dedicated team building, the entire team had been male...

Nanny was unamused. "What do you mean you're going to go _camp out_ with these hooligans?"

"It'll just be in the courtyard, Nanny!"

"Outdoors with no proper beds or walls, that's even worse!"

"This is insulting. What's she expecting us to do? Are we the Voltron Force or the Rape-A-Princess Patrol?" Lance murmured just loud enough for the rest of the team to hear; he was standing much too far away for Allura or Nanny to catch it, which was fortunate, considering that would have gotten him killed by the chief before either of the women could respond.

Actually, after the obligatory elbow in his second's ribcage, Keith seemed to feel that Lance had a point. "Nanny, please. Princess Allura's a member of the Voltron Force, and Alliance units have been gender integrated for centuries with hardly any incident. This isn't anything untoward or unusual."

Hunk felt like that point could be argued. Sleeping in a castle courtyard for fun, while on duty, most certainly _was_ unusual. Awesome, but unusual. But bringing that up would serve no purpose whatsoever; actually it was probably a good sign in Keith's social development that he was starting to accept how weird his team was.

In any case, he hadn't calmed the lady down in the least. "Such nonsense. Princess, you can't seriously—"

"—Would it make you feel better if I promised to go back to my room when I get sleepy rather than staying outside?" Allura interrupted, with a sigh that made it clear she'd humored Nanny like this many times before. It seemed to work, the older woman looked briefly disarmed.

Coran, who'd been sitting on the other side of the common room watching the argument with a bemused look, now stepped forward and raised his hands for silence. "The commander's quite right, Nanny. If the princess is going to be part of the Voltron Force, she ought to participate in their activities, odd as they may seem to us."

Everyone in the castle knew Nanny would prefer the princess _not_ be part of the Voltron Force, but she wasn't going to argue that point here, and sighed. "Ach, I suppose. You had all best behave, though!" She swept out of the room in a huff.

Shrugging helplessly, the advisor followed the castle matron out. "Do try to enjoy yourselves."

"Oh, we'll try." Lance gave a devilish grin as the two departed. "And hey, check it out! Allura one, Nanny zero."

"More like Coran one, Nanny and Allura both zero. At least she'll listen to _him_." The princess sighed and shook her head. "She might be the only person on Arus willing to point out that I'm not in charge."

Pidge cocked his head. "You're not?"

"Not legally, anyway. Technically since I haven't taken the crown yet, Coran has official authority. It's his province and his castle. I'm a guest." She shrugged. "Traditionally a baronet wouldn't ever make an issue of that, but under the current circumstances I know Nanny would like him to."

"Impressive that he's holding out, then." Lance leaned back against the wall, throwing his hands behind his head. "That woman's terrifying."

"Ease up, you guys. She's been through a lot. Everyone on this planet has." Keith looked over the team. "Okay, let's get to work if we're going to do this. Pidge, Lance, go take Strawman down, if he's staring at us all night I'll probably murder him in the morning. Hunk, cooking prep is all you. Princess, where can we find some sleeping bags?"

Leave it to their fearless leader to delegate responsibility for a _cookout_... Hunk saluted and went off in search of campfire food.

Processed foods could vary wildly from planet to planet; it was a complicated matter involving local materials, traditions, and what had managed to get imported—which mostly depended on the tastes of visitors to the world. Trying to make proper s'mores on an alien planet would be very, very hit or miss.

It turned out that Arus had developed a marshmallow-y confection on their own, and chocolate had been a staple since the world had joined the Alliance over a century ago. But there were no graham crackers. It was ridiculous, Hunk decided as he started ransacking the kitchen for a suitable replacement. Who'd ever heard of _graham crackers_ being the hard part?

After five unsuccessful minutes of searching, he swallowed his pride and went looking for the expert. The regional expert, at least. Only regional. He would _not_ admit to anything further.

"Oy, Lady Nanny! You still want to wring my neck, or can you give me some food advice?"

She'd been baking something fluffy and purple. _Purple?_ His curiosity was sparked, but there was no way he was going to ask her. Especially not when she looked up at him with an overly satisfied smirk. "Well, I suppose if you're going to show enough wisdom to ask a _professional_ for help, I can forgive you for this nonsense you've roped the princess into for now. What seems to be the problem?"

"Lookin' for a local equivalent." Giving her a brief description of graham crackers, Hunk found himself dragged across the kitchen by a woman on a mission.

"Yes, yes, we certainly have a few candidates, I can't imagine why you'd want any of them though, the food sounds quite bland..."

That should really settle the cooking argument once and for all. "Drop by the campfire sometime tonight and I'll show you. You ain't _lived_ until you've had s'mores." Something else was bothering him, and as she rooted through the cupboards he decided to go for broke. "If, uh, you don't mind me asking, why d'you keep calling yourself a professional, anyway? Princess said you're a noble, not a chef."

Nanny stopped midway through digging a box of circular golden brown wafers from a nearby drawer, nearly lost her balance, and took a step back. "Well why in the world should _those_ be mutually exclusive?"

"They aren't?"

"Ach, not at all!" She shook her head and handed him the box she'd retrieved. "Mirlan wafers, I think these are going to be closest to your 'graham crackers', give them a try. And I don't know _what_ they've told you about nobility on Earth, but on Arus, the lady of the manor is responsible for such things as cooking! It's chief among our duties!" She crossed her arms. "And I'll have you know I was known as the best cook in the Yazata province."

The wafers _were_ a good substitute, coarse and bland with the slightest hint of what he thought might be vanilla. And it was a good thing he was eating, because it gave him time to try to decide exactly how much of a smartass response that comment called for. Really better not to go into the fact that she'd used the past tense...

"Well if it makes ya feel any better, you're still the best Arusian cook in the Yazata province."

For the briefest moment, she actually looked quite touched. Then she swatted him with a box of biscuits as what he'd said fully sank in. "Oh, take your wafers and get out of my kitchen, you oaf." But she was still chuckling as he departed.

Before hauling everything to the courtyard, after a brief debate with himself, Hunk stopped in the residential wing. Actually, all four corners of the castle were residential, but only one of them was bothering to be occupied right now.

Lance wouldn't be happy about this, but it was only polite, he decided as he entered one of the upper hallways and knocked on the far door. Besides, Allura _had_ floated the idea of letting their guest try his hand at Blue Lion. Might be wise to get him in on the team-building thing, in case that shook out. "Prince Bokar?"

The pale-haired prince was at the door in moments. "Please, just Bokar. I'm a prince of very little at this stage. Is something the matter?"

Well that was interesting, Hunk mused. Lance called him 'prince' still and was not being corrected. Of course, Lance still looked at their guest like it was all he could do not to punch him. "Nah, nothing wrong. We're camping out in the courtyard tonight, just for kicks. Campfires, sleeping bags, ghost stories, all that jazz. You wanna join in?"

Bokar looked startled. "Er... um." After a moment he seemed to regain his composure, and shook his head. "I do appreciate the invitation, but I'm afraid I'd better stay here; I'm still adjusting to this planet's climate, and it's giving me a bit of a headache. Probably best not to go outdoors."

"Ahh, yeah, good call." Hunk saluted him with the bag of marshmallows. "Well, feel better!" He would've suggested aspirin, one of the few medical supplies Dr. Gorma had plenty of, but had no idea if that would have any effect on a Senmecite or not. "And once you're more used to Arus we'll have another cookout just for you."

He was very aware of Bokar's curious look on him, even after the door shut, and fought back a shudder that desperately wanted to run down his spine. Those gold-flecked eyes could be unnerving if they focused too sharply.

_Something about that guy..._

Shrugging it off, Hunk headed for the courtyard at full speed. It was time to rock.

* * *

><p>King Zarkon had taken half a day to give Yurak time to consult with Haggar, and to give himself time to have a discussion with his son. A discussion about duty, honor, patience, and not wearing his combat uniform around Nightstone Fortress at all hours. Lotor had listened carefully to the first three elements and rejected the last, which was probably a fair ratio for a father-son discussion.<p>

When the admiral returned to the throne room, Lotor was long gone, preparing for his new assignment. "Admiral. Your fleet is prepared to move against Arus?"

"Ready as we'll ever be, lord." He seemed uneasy, but his one good eye was narrowed with determination. "My people have been told about the Blue Lion's new pilot, though I must caution that it hasn't had the morale improvement I hoped for."

"Reassignment is still an option, if you would find that a wiser course."

"Of course not! They'll do their duty."

About what Zarkon had expected. The admiral wasn't known for his ego, but it was impossible to reach such a position without at least a _bit_ of pride. "Very well. I'm assigning Prince Lotor to your staff as an aide." He peered at Yurak for a moment. "I doubt I really have to worry about this, but don't trouble yourself stroking the boy's ego. I want him to see how a real commander operates."

The admiral nodded. "I've actually heard good things about your son's capabilities, lord. Having him aboard the _Death Defiant_ will be an honor."

"Indeed. Just don't tell _him_ that."

To his credit, Yurak didn't even ask about his earlier request, even though he'd just been attending to the details. Pressing the king when he was considering such matters was a good way to get a refusal out of pure spite; Zarkon did not tolerate being rushed. He would play the issue close for now.

All depended on what happened this time... one more miracle and perhaps there would be no other choice.

Given Yurak's recent irritation with Haggar, he decided maybe it was best to invoke a different deity than usual. At least out loud. "May Narisoth smile upon you, Admiral Yurak. Go and reduce Arus to ash."

* * *

><p>The mice were standing guard. Or at least, Swiss and Colby were standing guard. It seemed like two of them ought to be sufficient to keep snakes out of the courtyard; Cheddar had taken the other two to patrol the air vents. The gruff little leader of the mice seemed to be taking it personally that they had yet to find the breach in the castle's defenses.<p>

Keith rather liked Cheddar, though he probably shouldn't admit it out loud. Someone would do something _terrible_ with that.

Ghost stories turned out to be an interesting prospect when one of your camping companions was a spirit talker. It took Allura a few minutes to realize what they were actually discussing, and she'd quite apologetically explained that her experiences with the supernatural made her fully incapable of telling any such tales. So she listened, giggling as Lance did his best to scare Hunk out of the courtyard altogether, shivering at some of the darker myths Keith had picked up at boarding school.

Eventually, despite Lance's best efforts, Hunk had a cheerful blaze going and started toasting marshmallows. "Princess, you get the first s'more, seein' as how you've never had one. Lance, you get the last one because you're you. Line up, kids!"

"Kids?" Pidge repeated grouchily. "And I'll skip on the unnecessary components, thanks." He was sitting on top of his blanket with a bag of the thin chocolate discs that Arusians preferred over forming chocolate into bars. Keith arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. The little engineer insisted chocolate was physically addictive to Baltans, but his commander was pretty sure that was just an excuse.

No sense making an issue of it now, though. They _were_ here to have fun.

After about an hour they ran out of ghost stories and moved on to family stories, and after another hour of that they shifted to just nibbling on toasted marshmallows and watching the stars. Keith winced as he gazed at the sky, the glitter spread across the darkness. It reminded him too much of Sven... to distract himself he tried to look for constellations, which was pretty silly since they were, after all, not on Earth.

"Does Arus recognize any constellations, Princess?" No response; he frowned. "Princess?"

A faint rustle as Pidge got up to investigate. "She's asleep."

"She's _what?"_

"Asleep, Keith. It's when your body shuts down and recharges itself so you can go around flying robot lions again in the morning."

Keith shot Lance a dirty look, but decided it wasn't worth continuing that conversation. "Well she is not _supposed_ to be asleep. She was _supposed_ to go back to the castle when she started to get too tired, remember?"

His second raised his hands in surrender. "Dude, don't blame me, I was figuring our scintillating company would keep her awake all night."

"Scintillating," Pidge repeated with a snort. "Do you even know what that word means, Lance?"

"Not only do I know what it means, my picture's actually next to it in the dictionary."

"See, the thing with dictionaries is, you have to do more than just look at the pictures."

Keith rolled his eyes. "Okay, you two. Can we focus on the problem at hand?"

"I'm totally failing to see the problem," Hunk admitted, giving his commander a quizzical look. "Let's either poke her and send her in, or stick a blanket on top of her and call it a night. You're not actually thinkin' we're gonna cause a problem, are you?"

He couldn't help a wince; what his team would do had actually been the last thing on his mind, but he could certainly see where they would expect it to be the first. After all, he'd been forcing the decorum issue since they got here, hadn't he? But... he knew his friends were honorable, even though if he voiced that fact Lance would probably claim to be insulted. That wasn't what was worrying him at all.

"It's not _you_ guys, Hunk," he sighed. "I'm worried about Coran."

Blank looks all around; Pidge broke the confused silence first. "Okay, so we all know Nanny's scarier than all three hells put together, but what's there to be worried about with Coran?"

"Yeah." Hunk leaned back. "He seems pretty cool, for a stuffy old noble who thinks a cane is a fashion accessory."

Keith noted a look of interest in Lance's eyes and knew it had nothing to do with either him or Coran; their resident Baltan would be explaining that three hells thing later. Lance collected hells the way he collected foreign curses. "He's in charge here. Remember what Allura said, he's deferring to her on traditional grounds, not legal ones."

A round of shrugs went through the team, and their commander sighed. Maybe he was going to have to start insisting they call her Princess again, training or not. "He did okay this," Hunk pointed out.

"With the understanding that she wasn't going to stay out here. He has to keep up appearances. You _know_ the castle staff will talk... I just don't want to make his job harder than it already is, and I definitely don't want to make him think he needs to start reigning the princess in."

The two engineers exchanged glances, then nodded in apparent understanding. Lance rolled his eyes, ran a hand through his hair, and walked over to the pile of extra covers. "Okay, so here. We'll take this," he picked up a fluffy blue blanket, "put it here," he draped it across Allura's body, "and now we can't see her, so we clearly can't be looking weird at her or anything and we don't have to wake her up. Problem solved. Can we make more s'mores?"

"Make me one while you're at it," a voice murmured from the direction of the blanket.

Keith whirled to see Allura, blue eyes very much open, staring straight at him with an expression of profound amusement. "Princess! Have you been awake all this time?"

She giggled. "I might've been." Sitting up, the princess offered him a slightly sheepish grin. "I just wanted to know what you'd do, sorry."

If it were any other member of the team, Keith would've had his response ready immediately. But this was the princess, and she wasn't part of the usual banter. But... she was a teammate, and she _should_ be, and maybe it wasn't helping to pretend otherwise anymore.

"I will kill you in your sleep," he grumbled, half hoping she wouldn't actually hear it.

Arching an eyebrow, Allura took a moment to contemplate his tone, then giggled again. "I guess I'd better stay out here where there are two strong, handsome men to protect me, then. Oh, and Lance."

Brown eyes opened wider than any human's eyes should have been able to open. _"Hey!"_

"Oooh, you just got owned."

"_Nice_ one, Allura."

"I hate you all!"

Four voices answered in unison. "We know."

Lance scowled and went back to the fire, setting a whole skewer full of marshmallows ablaze and briefly threatening the team with it before blowing the flames out. Keith shot a look at Allura, who looked quite pleased with herself, and found himself thinking again about what a quick learner she was. Fighting and flying, those were such simple things. Anyone could learn that. But holding her own against their master of snark? _That_ was impressive.

For a few moments, he could stop worrying about Sven, about Blue Lion, about Voltron. Everything would be okay. Of _course_ things would be okay.

How could they not be?

* * *

><p>Camping in the courtyard. Was that what human soldiers did with their free time? It seemed quite unorthodox. Though to be honest, it had also sounded like fun, which was the real reason Bokar had declined the invitation. He didn't have a headache.<p>

It was just better not to get too attached to these people, when they would be dead so very soon...

That thought bothered him.

He was sitting on his bed and toying with the talisman the witch had given him, a nervous habit. Probably a bad habit as well, lest he draw attention to the trinket, though he was entirely prepared to explain that the crimson orb which hung around his neck was a royal treasure of Sennec. His last reminder of his dear people. The people who, in truth, had largely despised him and been despised in return.

Lies... so many lies. Practically everything but his name was a lie. He certainly hadn't been a prince, oh no. Just a young mageguard willing to sell out his people to save his own skin.

The talisman was his lifeline. Not just because it allowed him to communicate with the Drule overseers monitoring his mission, though that was important. Not just because it enhanced his own sorcery, though that was also quite helpful. But mostly, it held the magic which shrouded his true form. A form that could only cause him trouble if it were revealed.

Of course, the amulet had one last trick. The witch herself had enchanted it with a powerful growth spell, in case the situation unraveled, but Bokar very much hoped he wouldn't need to use that. A simple giant Sennecite was something entirely different from a robeast that was forged and trained for battle, and even robeasts tended to fall when they fought on this world. He had no doubt the lions would cut him down easily.

The lions...

They were truly fascinating. And powerful. Even without seeing the legendary Voltron itself, Bokar could fully understand why Arus had been such a difficult prize for the Ninth Kingdom to take. Hence his presence... but he was having second thoughts.

He did not like the planet. It was too green, too wet, too cold. But the people were another story. For the most part they were far kinder to him than his own people had ever been. And compared to the Drules? Outright angels. Even the Red Lion pilot's dislike was nowhere near the scorn heaped on him by those blue-skinned snobs.

Briefly he allowed himself to entertain the possibilities. If Princess Allura failed to impress the Blue Lion, _could_ he win the metal beast's favor? Could he overcome Lance's distrust and his own false pretenses and become an honored warrior for this force? If any resistance was to be successful against Zarkon's war of conquest in the Denubian, it would be this one beginning on Arus.

Could it be possible?

No... no.

He could be honest enough with himself to admit he was not suited for combat. If he were courageous, his mission would be one of assassination, not simply scouting. If the pure and beautiful princess was not good enough for Blue Lion, his own deceptive soul was hardly even worth asking about. And if he _did_ turn on the Drules, nothing in the galaxy would save him from Zarkon's retribution—the king had plenty of warriors who would happily give their lives to see him punished. He'd gotten to one lion pilot already.

Besides, with Voltron unable to be formed, Arus would fall. The attack would come within the week, and all would end. Why bother to pretend otherwise?

He hadn't been proud of handing over Sennec, and he wouldn't be proud of this. But he would live, and the Drules would reward him richly for this far more consequential planet. No more walking the arrogant halls of Doom as a mere servant. That had been the promise, after all: deliver Arus, and his now-enslaved homeworld would be his to rule.

Better to reign in hell...

A squeak from outside. After a few moments, the door slid open with a hiss—he'd not realized he had left the door unlocked when Hunk left, and scolded himself for his carelessness. Looking over the room, he ensured that none of his scouts were visible, then stood to greet the green-eyed mouse which entered. He still wasn't sure what to make of the mice, so treating them as humans seemed like the wisest course of action. _Do nothing to draw suspicion_.

"Colby, isn't it? Good evening."

"Skriiik."

The mouse was carrying something. Two somethings, actually. What appeared to be a small brown-gold sandwich in its paws, and a slip of paper rolled up so its tail could wrap around it. Kneeling, he accepted the paper first, opened it to read a short message in untidy scrawl.

_Willing to bet you didn't have these on Sennec. This is a s'more, and you haven't lived until you've tried one, so here you go. Hope your headache's getting better!_

—_Hunk_

He accepted the... s'more... hesitantly. Hunk was right, he'd never heard of such a thing, but... it was warm and sweet when he bit into it, and for a moment he deeply regretted skipping the campout after all. Damn it all, but why did they have to make this so _difficult? _Why couldn't they just be as evil as the Drules, as cruel as any enemy in war?

"Thank you very much, and tell Hunk thanks as well," he said sincerely. The mouse gave a cheerful squeak and vanished.

Finishing the s'more, boiling with hatred directed fully at his own weakness, Bokar walked back to his bed and punched it as hard as he could. He had no one but himself to blame.

* * *

><p>Dawn was just breaking on Arus when the fleet jumped in. Excellent timing, really. Visibility would be good and the lions might be blinded by the sun as they approached. A brief advantage at best, but there was no such thing as an advantage too fleeting to be taken. Especially not against the lions. Lotor could see them now, five multicolored metal beasts approaching on the ground, though he knew they could take to the sky at any moment.<p>

Recordings and data crystals did them no justice. They were _beautiful_. Lions, yes, and terribly blasphemous, but they moved with such speed and power. Lotor's own personal heraldry featured the thornwalker wolf, Korrinoth's most agile and elusive predator, but even such a wolf would be hard-pressed to match the grace of the lions.

With some effort he shook it off. This was warfare, not a beauty contest. But then, aesthetics _should_ be a part of battle. Pure brute force was for the basest of animals.

He noted several of the bridge crew tensing as the enemy ships moved forward, becoming enveloped in a crackling field of white-gold energy which seemed to bind them all together long before blocking sensors completely. Almost completely. Squinting into the light he could just vaguely make out that one of the metal forms was not moving with the others, trailing well behind the blinding aura, and after a few moments Blue Lion tumbled out of its position. The light faded.

_Just as Father said. The knight can't be formed_. He found himself disappointed by that.

Lirik looked up from her console. "Admiral, the lions will be in range in thirty seconds."

"Have the rest of the fleet take up support positions. No more miracles. If the lions intend to win this fight, they'll have to find their way through the _Death Defiant _first." The admiral's good eye glowed brightly. "All units may fire at will."

As the first wave of lasers and missiles erupted from the fleet, Lotor couldn't help a frown. The attacks weren't concentrated, and the lions were darting, difficult targets. Given time, they would surely be able to punch through even the hull of the command ship. "Wouldn't it be better to focus on a single target?"

That got him a glower from Lirik and a startled look from one of the other aides, a rough-looking youth named Grayl. "Mind yourself, Prince Lotor!" he whispered with some urgency. "You may be prince, but on the _Death Defiant_ the admiral's word is law!"

"I was merely making a suggestion."

Yurak was watching them, looking mildly amused. "He's here to learn something, Grayl. No sense telling him not to ask questions." Bristling at the reminder that he was here to study rather than contribute, Lotor forced himself not to snarl something... imprudent. He _was_ here to learn, and it would be best if he did so. "Don't be fooled by their size, Lotor. The lion craft are threats on the level of any cruiser, if not greater."

_Ah_. It made more sense to look at it that way; he'd not realized the individual components of Voltron were quite so formidable. That pleased him. Maybe it would be a sufficiently glorious battle after all. "Suppressive fire, then?"

"Indeed." With a frown, the admiral turned back to the main screen. "They're clever, especially for humans. I've never seen an enemy force so adept at hitting our weak points before. We can't afford to leave even one of them an opening." After a few moments he added, "But there _is_ some merit to your suggestion, given what we know of the current situation."

Lotor blinked. Being reprimanded, patronized, and then agreed with? It seemed silly. "Indeed?"

"Indeed." Yurak looked to Lirik. "Have our gunners focus fire on the Blue Lion. Let their pilot in training try to deal with our full arsenal. The rest of the fleet should continue firing at whatever targets they deem best."

"Aye, sir."

* * *

><p>The <em>Death Defiant<em> had it in for her, Allura decided. She wasn't sure why; all the lions had moved in together, she hadn't been at the head of the pack, she certainly hadn't done much damage... in fact most of her firing had been ineffective so far. She was having as much trouble targeting the tiny Doom fighters as the warships seemed to have targeting the lions.

What had gotten her tagged as the biggest threat? It was really very inconvenient.

Or perhaps it wasn't about threat...

She went down again as cannon fire knocked her lion off balance, fighting the controls. Hunk had kept telling her _not_ to fight the controls, not to hold so tightly her hands ached, but she hadn't really listened then and couldn't force her muscles to relax now. It wasn't just about her own lion taking a beating. Even she could see they were barely even scratching the enemy command ship, which was blocking them from reaching its comrades as the smaller ships peppered the lions with fire.

It was only a matter of time.

They'd failed to form Voltron again, after all, and the Drules were clearly emboldened by the failure. Powerful as the lions were, they couldn't hold out against the sheer power of the dreadnought. Not for long. Was this what it came down to? Would she fall in combat, defending her world, as Blue Lion's last pilot had done?

_...Fine_. She was ready.

If Allura was certain of anything, she was certain that she would not watch Arus destroyed again. Maybe it was courage. Maybe it was selfishness. She didn't care which right now. All she knew was that if she couldn't save her world, this time she was going to be the first to die. The Drule monsters would take nothing else from her. They would go _through_ her.

Roaring a challenge, Blue Lion took to the sky once more, hovering between the _Death Defiant_ and the rest of the lions.

"Princess, what are you doing?"

"You're taking too many hits as it is!"

"Don't worry about me." Her sensors were screaming, warning of a weapons lock, and she darted aside just before the ship's heavy guns fired. A pair of railgun slugs blasted just past her lion, and she returned fire with her frontal cannon, freezing up one of the warship's weapon ports but knowing the ice wouldn't hold when it fired again. "I'm buying you time, now do something with it!"

She could hear Keith's frustrated growl, knew she was meant to hear it because the comms really weren't that sensitive otherwise. Lance was the first to actually speak. "Damn it, Allura, don't _you_ pull this on us too!" Red Lion came up behind her, pouring laser fire into the dreadnought with no apparent effect, trying to draw its attention and failing completely.

"Do you have any better ideas?"

"I have a lot of better ideas than you getting killed! Like you not getting killed!"

"Enough." Keith's voice was low. Deadly. "Allura, proceed. Everyone else take that dreadnought apart. Now."

He'd seen it, he must have. Come to the same conclusion the princess had. Somehow the Drules knew which pilot was the weakest link, and she was their focus. Good tactics. But if they thought she was going to make it easy for them...

Green and Yellow Lions had moved around the _Death Defiant_'s left flank, their pilots being uncharacteristically quiet. Now it became apparent why. Ignored by the dreadnought in favor of easier prey, both lions fired their frontal cannons at once. They were close to each other—close enough that Green's whirlwind caught Yellow's sand to create an abrasive vortex, punching into the warship's thick armor and beginning, startlingly quickly, to scour a hole in its side.

It was enough to draw the dreadnought's attention, if only for a moment. Allura heard a warning tone fade as the warship's weapons lock on her broke, and lasers scattered over the other two lions, forcing them to pull back.

Black Lion was heading for the rear of the warship, stopping only once to pour lightning over a destroyer that had gotten too close. Moving in on the engines, probably. Red had clamped down on the dreadnought's other side and was ripping armor plates from its hull, but the ship had plenty of armor yet to give.

The princess stopped watching them as a heavy laser streaked across one of Blue Lion's wings, throwing her off balance, but she managed to keep the craft upright and return fire with a volley of glowing darts. Perhaps too late, but she _was_ getting better at this... the thought had barely finished going through her mind when a stream of tracers and cannon slugs pounded into her lion's side, knocking her from the sky.

_Keep it together!_

Fighting everything, she managed to pull out of the fall just before slamming into the dirt. But the _Death Defiant_ was moving in on her, ignoring the others, who were doing damage but not anywhere near quickly enough. A volley of missiles came at her, and when she tried to wrench her ship away half of the warheads followed.

The lion hit the ground with a roar of fury, and Allura couldn't fight her own frustration any longer as her controls seized up and sensors shrieked of capital weapon locks. "Looks like we're going to go down together, Blue Lion. I hope you're happy."

Something flickered inside her.

Something...

Allura's eyes widened. Black and Red were streaking back in towards her, while Green and Yellow had redoubled their efforts to draw the dreadnought's attention—they'd actually succeeded in breaching the huge ship's armor, but even that went unnoticed as it closed in for the kill.

But suddenly it didn't matter. None of it mattered.

The flicker came again. Stronger. And when the _Death Defiant_ unleashed its weapons, they hit an impenetrable wall of energy.

Allura felt it. Tugging at her from somewhere within. Calling to the others; Yellow and Green flailed briefly in midair as the energy arced through them, drawing them back. The force field shuddered but held as the entire Drule fleet opened fire, surely seeing what was happening, desperation setting in.

Too late. Keith's voice rang out over the comms, seizing on the moment, though he really didn't need to speak. The lions were doing it themselves.

"Activate interlocks. Dynatherms connected. Infracells up. Megathrusters are go!"

She felt it this time, surging inside her, calling out though her words were lost in Blue Lion's roar of triumph.

"Let's go, Voltron Force!"


	6. Moment of Acceptance

**Arusian Crusade: Changing Tides**  
>Chapter 5: Moment of Acceptance<p>

* * *

><p><em>The waters recede, but do not vanish.<em>

_My claws dull, but do not break._

_You fear, but do not flee._

_Still you would stand for the heart of serenity?_

_So be it._

_I have seen your strength._

_We will fly together!_

* * *

><p>Allura's world went cold.<p>

She'd become used to the chill of Blue Lion. The chill of rejection, of suspicion, the chill which told her she wasn't yet worthy of the duty she was so desperately trying to take on. Even the chill which rippled through the cockpit, purely physical, when she triggered the lion's frozen breath.

There were so many different kinds of cold. Allura knew the cold, knew it well, because frost had gathered so often in the depths of the Castle of the Cross. The catacombs where she had learned to speak to ghosts, where the spirits had offered her their wisdom and strength. The ghosts, too, knew the cold. The chill of death which whispered through those shadowy halls. Frightening some, but strengthening others.

All came from the cold, and all returned to it. It was not to be feared.

It was the icy grip of eternity touching her mind now, but it didn't speak of death. No. She understood now, she _knew_. Blue Lion's frozen claws had claimed her forever, and she'd never felt so alive.

She felt the others at the fringes of her mind. It was them, yet it was not—the champions distilled into the pure essence of the elements. Lightning that crackled with calm determination. Flames that burned with unquenchable passion. Wind that rushed past with untamed spirit. Earth which embraced them all, grounding them with its unbreakable endurance.

There was something else there... a black abyss that seemed to drift just out of her reach, but a darkness that was not fearsome. The lightless reaches of the ocean, bound to this same lion—and through it, bound to her. She understood that presence and nodded, fully intending to do it justice.

The chill faded, and Allura's eyes opened.

* * *

><p><em>Blue Lion?<em>

_A new soul resides within you._

_The heart of serenity still sleeps?_

_We will wait... I am convinced._

_Heart of tenacity, awaken!_

_You are worthy of this charge._

_The five become six, and the soul shines anew!_

* * *

><p>Six thousand light years from Arus, an unconscious form in a hospital bed took on a vivid sapphire glow, just for a moment. Recordings from the room would be examined later, but no answers would be found.<p>

A lighting malfunction was blamed for the oddity.


	7. Evolution

**Arusian Crusade: Changing Tides**  
>Chapter 6: Evolution<p>

* * *

><p>Voltron.<p>

Standing in castle control with Coran and Nanny, Bokar stared at the monitors in silent disbelief. Of course he'd known... he'd heard of this. But to see the lion knight take form...

All his doubts in his mission came flooding back in an instant.

Nanny's whisper broke the stunned silence. "They've done it... the princess, she's... ach, this means she's going to keep piloting with those hooligans, doesn't it?" The pride shining in her eyes belied her words; in her own way she looked to be just as conflicted as Bokar felt.

"I'm afraid so." Coran kept watching the monitors, though the battle was very much over.

The Drules clearly wanted no part of Voltron at full power, not with the forces they'd sent to crush the weakened lions. Already the support ships were pulling back, while the dreadnought in the lead took a few shots just to give the metal knight something to think about while its companions opened a jumpgate behind it.

Though he'd been warned that something like that was likely to happen, Bokar was still startled to see the Drule fleet give it up so easily. He was vaguely aware that there was another plan in the works should Voltron be reborn—_again_—but of course those details were kept from him. That plan involved pulling the assault force back before it could start being chopped into pieces.

Even so...

A low hiss from behind him caught his attention, and the false prince paled as he turned.

His scouts weren't _supposed_ to turn up in public. But he might've been a little careless when conjuring today's wave, since he'd known the attack was coming, since he'd expected it wouldn't matter by the end of the morning in any case.

Two cobras with glowing golden eyes were moving across the smooth metal floor of castle control, quicker than snakes had any real right to move.

Nanny shrieked; Coran took a step forward, seeming to be moving on instinct, but his instincts didn't seem to go much further than getting in front of the lady.

Bokar was frozen, watching the cobras slither forward. They were going to blow his cover, to force him to explain how he'd survived when the two he'd been standing with had fallen, to just make him see and confront the blood and death...

_No. _Without further thought he reached out to the oncoming cobras.

Banishment spells were a simple matter, of course—especially when banishing one's own creations. But they caused a satisfying flare of light when they impacted, as the energy which had animated the summons dissipated in an instant. And the shimmering residue of the serpents looked quite helpfully like a spread of ash. All in all it had been an impressive performance.

Best to keep it up. "Are you alright?" he asked, moving forward and studying Nanny with a feigned concern that came too easily.

She was trembling, staring at him wide-eyed. "I... yes, I just... thank you!"

Coran was already looking at the nearest air vent, but nodded his agreement. "That was most impressive, really."

_No, not really_. He bowed slightly. "I'm simply glad it was successful."

Oh, very glad. The Drules would have loved to see that, wouldn't they?

So he'd just saved two of the people whose deaths he was here to facilitate. That wasn't the least bit awkward. But he'd realized something, in that moment where his cobras had been so close to slaying the castle's key support staff. Remembered something he'd made quite clear before coming to Arus.

He was _not_ here to kill. He didn't have it in him.

Bokar nodded to himself as he watched the advisor checking the vents. He could play both sides. He would relay information, but if the Drules actually intended to take Arus they would do the heavy lifting themselves. Wasn't that their way? Strength was more important than anything. If they didn't have the power to take this world without him assassinating people, they didn't need it so damned badly.

Maybe they would fail. And while he wasn't going to actively turn on them... he rather hoped they would.

* * *

><p>The cave was dim and quiet. As it always was, really. The faint light of glimmermoss and the scent of lake water were the only things that filled this place, other than the mystical presence which called it home.<p>

Allura stepped forward and looked up at Blue Lion, which sat completely indifferent to her presence, inactive as it was. She didn't need to be here. No matter where she went in the castle or the grounds, the lion was never more than the slightest thought away. But she came to its den because that seemed to be more respectful, for what she had to do...

Touching the metal claw before her, she closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, Blue Lion. I was too impatient, and you were right."

The sensations came back to her, feelings without words. A sense of acceptance, but then something more. A whisper of... sorrow? As though the lion were apologetic itself.

It made sense now. So much sense. She didn't need the spirit talking ritual, because Blue Lion was in her mind, because it spoke without words but spoke nonetheless. And in some ways it was so much easier. If she couldn't find words she didn't have to find words. The lion could simply take her thoughts straight from her soul. Of course, interpreting the sensations it sent _back_ to her could be another story entirely, but she imagined she would learn in time.

Everything was a learning process.

Somehow, Allura didn't think this was what her father had meant when he told her to guide the Voltron Force. And yet... what he had told her...

_You must fulfill your duties in the manner you believe is right_.

This _was_ the only way. To fight beside them. To learn of Voltron's secrets by being part of it, being bound to it.

To be honest, as best she could tell her mystical training wasn't helping her that much. She wasn't sure if it was simply too far from her chosen branch of mysticism, or if the bond between lion and pilot was unlike anything Arusian mystics had ever known. But this was new for her as well.

She'd felt all of them... the other four. No. The other _five_.

"You can sense him better than we can, can't you?"

A faint impression of agreement.

Pulling back, the princess circled the craft, grimacing at the dents and scorch marks covering its surface. The _Death Defiant_ really had done a number on her. She could see a faint glow where the lion's field repair systems were working to patch up the worst of the damage. Hunk had wanted to come and do heavier repairs right away, but she'd asked him to wait. To give her time for this conversation.

He hadn't seemed to find the request odd at all.

Yes. The others were more used to the link, too. She might be the mystic but they had the experience. Yet somehow she no longer felt like a trespasser—as if the purity of being part of Voltron transcended all such feelings of insecurity. When acceptance came, it was absolute.

From the lions, anyway.

Allura looked at her uniform; she hadn't bothered to put her flight suit on for this excursion, she wasn't going anywhere. The regular uniform she wore was still gray. "What do you think?" she asked the lion, frowning. "I'm pretty sure I'm past the point of being a recruit, but... I don't know. I don't want to wear blue."

She was pretty certain the impulse that shot through her mind was actually offended.

"It's nothing against you!" she protested, taking a step back, though of course the metal form itself hadn't so much as twitched. "It would just be kind of weird! I mean, the rest of the team might not know how Arusian rank colors line up, but I know _I'm_ not a platoon commander!"

Blue Lion felt distinctly unconvinced, and Allura sighed.

"Okay, okay. I just don't want to look like I'm trying to outright replace..." She started to say Sven but wasn't sure the lion would comprehend. "...the heart of serenity."

Saying those words sent a shock through her. She remembered something now—something from the formation, when the lion had accepted her. When Voltron had accepted her. There'd been words, and while she hadn't stopped to grasp them at the time, they came surging back now.

The voice had called her something...

Something that had definitely not been heart of serenity.

Was it that simple?

Blue Lion seemed to think it was; the response she was getting to her concerns was one of more confusion than anything else. A hint of reassurance, as well. But mostly confusion.

"You don't even understand what I'm worried about, do you?"

For quite some time there was no response at all, which seemed odd—the lion's presence had not faded, it was simply not answering. Then its eyes flared, and along with a surge of supreme effort that screamed through every fiber of Allura's being, as if Blue Lion were seizing on her strength to take action—ludicrous as that seemed.

The voice roared with effort through her mystical senses, not her physical ones. _There is only one heart of serenity. There is only one heart of tenacity_.

Staring at the metal beast, the princess took a few moments to recover from the sheer force of the words. "That... was really loud," she muttered, more to herself than the lion, though it responded with an apologetic glimmer. Not that the words had actually had any sound, but from a spiritual perspective they had been deafening. "Worked, though."

So it really was that simple. Blue Lion didn't even grasp the concept of what was worrying her, and that somehow made her feel better about the whole thing.

The humans might be another story.

"I'll think about switching colors," she said finally. "But not yet."

A patient acknowledgment from the lion. It could wait.

Somehow, Allura couldn't help feeling that a metal feline demigod had better things to do than critique her clothing choices. But she _had_ asked, if somewhat absently. And maybe it really wasn't about Sven after all.

If Blue Lion had finally deigned to bond to her, she should probably give it the courtesy of wearing its color... to prove that their souls had become one.

* * *

><p>So Voltron had pulled out another miracle, just as he'd feared. Zarkon couldn't find it in himself to rage about the new development. Sighing, he simply accepted Yurak's report with resignation, then ordered everyone out of the throne room but his admiral and his closest aide.<p>

Yurak finally dared to press, but by now the king couldn't blame him for it. "Does this mean you've reconsidered my request, lord?"

"I wouldn't call it _re_considering. I've considered it for the last two days." He looked to the witch standing at his side. "I'd like your thoughts, Haggar."

"It's a most interesting proposition." Her eyes glowed almost blindingly bright for a moment as she looked from her lord to the admiral, then back. "I _have_ advised the admiral that I wouldn't recommend taking the burden on himself, but his general premise has merit. One who volunteers to stand against Voltron may be our best chance."

"Elaborate."

"There is a great difference between transforming an unwilling slave and a volunteer," Haggar explained. "A body can only stand to hold so much power. With slaves, much energy goes into removing the subject's personality, ensuring they have no emotion or loyalty lingering from their former lives. With a willing subject, there is no need for such measures. All of the energy goes into enhancing the robeast's combat efficiency."

That made sense. Though he employed robeasts regularly, as did every kingdom in the Supremacy, he knew fairly little about the mechanics behind the weapons. They simply weren't his concern. Better to let those who specialized deal with it—it was their job, after all. He preferred to let his people do their jobs. "And when the mission ends? I've no desire to lose my greatest commander to this whimsical nonsense, and a robeast admiral would cause some logistical issues."

She nodded as if she'd been expecting the question, though he noticed a slight flicker in Yurak's expression that he couldn't quite read. "It's a simple matter to reverse the physical changes. The breaking of the mind—unnecessary here—is what's irreversible."

It seemed to settle it. Morale within the armada was bad enough as it was. If he refused this request now, it would be seen as nothing more or less than a vote of no confidence in Yurak's abilities, and could not possibly improve the situation. The king did not like being put in this position. But he _was_ in it, and raging against reality would serve no purpose.

"Go, then, Yurak Lionbane. Bring glory to the Drule Supremacy."

His warrior bowed. "My life for the Ninth Kingdom, lord!"

Watching them depart, Zarkon couldn't help an uneasy feeling crawling across his skin. He knew the truth. Not for any lack of faith on his own part, but because that flicker in Yurak's eyes suddenly made sense.

He was sending his greatest warrior to die... with his blessing.

Scowling, he called for Lotor.

* * *

><p>Bokar's shuttle was nearly fixed. Or at least, it looked nearly fixed. They weren't going to take a shot at actually making the thing fly until it was a little more fixed than 'nearly', but it did make it difficult to judge their handiwork.<p>

Pidge found the Sennecite ship aesthetic a bit odd. The craft was long and narrow, with a stubby nose and slim, sharply back-swept wings—it didn't look like it was built for atmospheric maneuvers, and that was quite unusual for modern spacefaring designs. He supposed it must work for them, but he certainly couldn't see any _practical_ reason for some of the design choices.

And there was something else. Maybe he just had snakes on the brain, but the layout of the wings sort of reminded him of a cobra's hood.

"How's the engine?"

"Purrin' like a kitten. Only problem is, the way these fans are set up, it _oughta_ be wailing like a banshee." Hunk pulled out from beneath the craft and gave a shrug before returning to work. "Maybe we've improved on it."

"Wouldn't shock me. We going to get Bokar out here to try this thing out once we've got it running again, or do you think Keith'll make us put our own necks on the line?"

"You don't sound too confident."

"I'm _not_ very confident. This thing's giving off some weird sort of technomystical broadcast, like an overaggressive IFF, and I can't seem to pin it down. If I can't even figure _that_ out, why should I think I've fixed the piloting controls correctly?"

"Cuz you're a genius. Get down here and hold a bolt in for me, will ya?"

Shrugging, the little engineer dropped to the floor and crawled under the fuselage, securing the bolt Hunk pointed him to. The space wasn't too cramped by his standards, but it certainly offered more privacy than the hangar proper. Which was probably why his companion chose that moment to bring up his next point.

"He's lying, y'know."

Pidge blinked. No, he hadn't known. "Who, Bokar? About what?"

"Hell if I know. But he's definitely lyin' about something." Hunk didn't seem terribly concerned about what he was saying. "Probably bailed out on his own, none of that survive-for-his-people stuff he was all on about when he crashed. But I dunno."

_Amazing_. After all this time, the little engineer still couldn't figure out how his friend caught these things. "Should we be worried?"

"Lance is worried. Lance can't stand the guy. I figure he'll do enough worryin' for all of us." Shrug. "Hard to say. I sure _hope_ it's just that he ran."

"You hope he's a coward?"

"Why not? Not everyone can be a hero."

Pidge supposed there was some truth in that. "I guess we'd better not tell him his ship might still be broken, then."

"What he doesn't know _probably_ won't hurt him."

While he was helping with the engine, the young pilot made sure to keep an eye out for snakes, since none of the mice were present at the moment. He hadn't seen any yet today, but they'd all heard about the two which had jumped Nanny and Coran while Voltron was fighting. Apparently Bokar had vaporized them.

Did cowards make a habit of learning to disintegrate inconvenient wildlife?

Actually... he couldn't help thinking that, if Hunk were reading the runaway prince right, he should probably be freaking out right now. Between mysterious snake attacks and Drule assault fleets, Arus didn't seem like the sort of place a coward would want to hang out. Yet he seemed in no hurry to leave.

Maybe he was just being polite?

Well, whatever the truth, even Hunk could be wrong about people every so often. It probably didn't matter.

* * *

><p>Haggar's main laboratory was a small, private space. The facility where she created robeasts was just the opposite. Reaching further below Korrinoth than any on that planet could probably fathom, the vast complex could house a dozen fully-powered giant robeasts quite comfortably—even though the resources and power required made that very unlikely to be practical.<p>

It was empty now, save for the witch drawing a series of concentric rings on the floor. He stood and observed for awhile. There was no need to speak and interrupt the process just yet, and he found it interesting to watch her at work. Occult science was the domain of priests and witches, not soldiers, and the mystical castes usually hid their secrets jealously.

"Right on time, Admiral. You are prepared?"

"Of course."

"Excellent. This process will be simplified if you undress." The witch sounded almost distracted as she continued to trace the glowing green circles around the room; she hadn't looked at him since he entered.

Yurak blinked. He supposed that made sense, but hadn't even thought about it, and once again he found himself appreciating all the intricacies of Haggar's craft. He'd never thought about what went into forging a robeast before. It seemed to take every bit as much precision and detail as planning a successful invasion... now he understood why she'd been so irritated when her weapons kept falling at Voltron's hands.

A brief flicker of modesty was quickly banished. He was here to be turned into a gigantic war machine with the intent of fighting a god, that wasn't exactly modest.

He removed his uniform slowly, leaving it in a neat stack on a nearby work table. Coba, who'd been prowling the edges of the cavernous room, promptly jumped onto the table and curled up on top of the crisply folded fabric.

_Well then_. Frowning at the cat, he turned his attention back to Haggar's work.

The circles were shaky, imprecise. Yet as he watched her drawing them out it became clear their seeming lack of order had an order to it. Every few steps she would stop, contemplating what sort of jagged imperfection to employ at that moment, and perhaps when considering which deity she was invoking it made sense.

Sarga the Unfathomable, goddess of chaos. _Of course. _

In other Drule kingdoms, the void goddess was a fairly minor player in the pantheon, revered by spacefarers and looked upon with suspicion by all others. The Supremacy was a society of order. How did chaos come to take such a role of honor?

Voltron.

Yes. It was told in the history books, though some had always claimed it to be a myth. Of all the deities which could have manifested to end the lion knight's rampage, it was chaos which chose to act first, a shock even to her own priests. Chaos who shattered the lion god and brought the First Empire salvation in the Denubian.

Here he would take her power and seek to follow in her footsteps. A curious development, all things considered...

"The preparations are complete. Enter the circle."

There were six rings. Undoubtedly that number had significance. But he didn't know what it was, and he didn't much care, because he was here to fulfill his duty, not ask questions borne of idle curiosity. And frankly, without his clothing the lab was cold. Yurak was entirely _capable_ of dealing with such minor discomfort, but at this point there was no need for the irritation to persist.

It was time. "I'm ready."

Haggar cocked her head. "You have my apologies for this, Admiral. But it is quite necessary; if you were conscious for it the touch of the goddess would shred your mind, precisely the opposite of your intentions." Before he could ask her to elaborate on that, she raised her staff and a glow of violent emerald light filled his vision.

All went dark.

* * *

><p>The mice still hadn't found anything. In fact, Cheddar was quite insistent that there <em>were<em> no breaches in the ventilation system, which completely failed to explain why a pair of cobras had attacked the three in the control room earlier. Keith decided it was time to get some human eyes on the scene; perhaps the metal rodents weren't looking in the right places.

"Remind me why we have to be in full combat dress for this?" Lance whined, tugging uncomfortably at one of his blue gloves.

"In case a bunch of poisonous snakes come jumping out at you without warning. Obviously."

"Obviously."

Keith sighed. Sven had never bitched about wearing his flight suit on patrol. Sven hadn't bitched about much of anything.

Sven wasn't here. Sooner or later he was going to have to accept that. It was looking like that would shape up to be quite a bit later. And that wasn't good for him, and certainly wasn't fair to Lance. He needed to get over it, but this probably wasn't going to be the day. Not after what had happened with Voltron...

The best he could do was not voice his thoughts, and he _did_ manage that.

"You heard anything about Mr. Pretty-Pretty-Prince from the Alliance yet?"

"No. I imagine it's a fairly low priority request, considering they're fighting a hot war here and all, remember?" Three more battlegroups had made their way to the Denubian the day before, bringing the total count of active units to five; one of the original three had been routed so badly in the first wave that it lost unit cohesion, but the others had seen success. The Drules hadn't been expecting to be hit so hard, or in so many places at once. "Trust me, when they get back to us, you'll be the first to know."

"I suspect you'll be the first to know."

Keith snorted. Fair point. "You'll be the second to know, then. And I'm reserving the right to say 'I told you so' when it comes back that he's in the clear."

"See, I'm glad I don't have to _reserve_ rights like that."

"You don't?"

"Nope. They're an innate, integral part of the wondrous and complex tapestry that is me."

The commander stopped, blinking at his second, receiving a wicked smirk in return. "Where is Pidge when I need him to shoot down your delusions of grandeur?"

Startlingly quickly, the mocking look in Lance's soft eyes flickered back down to a dull burn. "You know," he said in an oddly subdued tone, "time once was you were capable of snarking back at me all by your lonesome. Granted, the squirt's better at it these days, but maybe if you got back into the habit..."

Wince. "Maybe." He turned away, turned his attention fully on the castle walls, trying to hide how much that had stung. Not that he could even begin to hide the fact that he knew Lance was right. And worse, much worse, Lance knew Lance was right. "Come on, let's get back to work."

His friend just looked at him. "C'mon, Keith. I know you felt it too, so spill it."

_Oh hell. _"Felt what?"

"Did you play dumb like this for Sven? It's incredibly unconvincing."

Busying himself looking over a cracked stone that did not, in fact, breach all the way through the walls, Keith fought as hard as he could against the inevitable admission. It didn't really get him anywhere. "Matter of fact, I _did_ play dumb like this for Sven."

"And did he buy it?"

"About as well as you're buying it."

Lance chuckled. "Well, good to know I'm living up to my predecessor." His expression hardened again. "He was there, Keith. When we formed Voltron. I mean, I felt Allura joining up on the link, but I'm sure for a second there were _six_ of us. That's what's bothering you, isn't it?"

Yes. Yes, that was _precisely_ what had been bothering him. Not the fact that Sven's presence had been there, but the fact that it had been so... distant.

Unreachable.

"What if he doesn't make it back?" he whispered.

Immediately his friend's tone went dark. "Dude, he's _going_ to make it back. Don't even talk like that. We know he got to Ebb safely, and remember what you told us? What Gorma told you? Getting _there's_ the whole battle. He's going to make it back!"

That wasn't the calm reassurance he was used to getting from his second in command, but it _was_ about the reaction he should've expected from Lance. And... it helped. Sven would've gently bound the wound Keith had admitted to bearing. Lance brandished a pointy needle and stitched it up with brutal enthusiasm. But the injury was treated, either way. "...Yeah. Thanks for that. I guess... I just needed somebody else to say it out loud for me."

The wiry pilot slapped him on the shoulder. "You don't have to tell _me_ that, I know how you work. I can read you like a freaking novel, amigo."

"Unfortunately, I can't argue with that." Then the wording sank in. "Wait, since when do you know even a single Spanish word that's suitable for polite company?"

"Hijo de puta. Who says you're polite company?"

"That's more like it." Keith flailed about in his own rather minimal knowledge of Spanish, then added, "Su cabron."

Lance rolled his eyes. "Points for effort, demerits for style. You've gotta say it like you _mean_ it if you want to be taken seriously... but we'll keep working on that. Let's go find some snakes, shall we?"


	8. The Better Part of Valor

**Arusian Crusade: Changing Tides**  
>Chapter 7: The Better Part of Valor<p>

_Okay, I think Yurak is now officially finished hijacking this fic. Silly Yurak._

* * *

><p>Another day, another Doom fleet. The Drules may have retreated from the last battle easily, but they apparently weren't interested in letting up for good.<p>

Keith didn't understand what they were trying to accomplish... especially not when they barely moved from their entry point, arranging in a rough semicircle and launching a pen ship to the surface.

Pure robeast combat, then. Precisely the opposite of what they'd tried last time.

"Why won't they just pick one tactic and stick with it?" Lance grumbled.

"Because doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results is insanity," Pidge answered easily, trotting Green Lion a little ahead of the pack. "Whereas trying a ton of different things that never work over and over isn't insane, it's just stupid."

"Let's not get cocky, children." Their commander returned to the front of the formation. "Their tactics may not make sense to _us_, but we thought they were just being stupid when they snuck that witch onto the planet, too."

A brief silence greeted his point; not even Lance could argue it. Then the pen ship cracked open to release its passenger, and everything else ceased to be relevant.

_What...?_

It was a robeast, but... not. Keith blinked, staring at the powerful form which had emerged from the ship, trying to understand. This was no monstrous abomination. It just looked like a giant Drule, sheathed in red and black armor. Though it was clearly a robeast as well—every inch of exposed skin glinted with cybernetic enhancements, and one eye blazed crimson.

None of that mattered, not really. It could only have one purpose, and they would destroy it to defend this world. Yet he was off balance. "Be careful, team. Something strange is going on here."

The dark form studied each of the lions in turn, then bowed deeply. "We've not been properly introduced." He took a step forward. "I am Admiral Yurak Lionbane, commander of the _Death Defiant_, champion of the Supremacy. I'm here to challenge the lion demon, not his fragments... I'll wait."

_What. The. Hell?_

For several terribly long seconds Keith just gawked at the robeast. There was no reason this should be possible. No way it should be speaking to them. Let alone the idea of such a construct being an admiral, or a ship commander, or a hero of the Supremacy. The only way that could be possible... was not possible.

"So, chief." Lance sounded like he was desperately trying for a mocking tone, but was too confused to really put his heart into it. "Y'know how you told us back when we left Doom that robeasts have all their memory and stuff ripped out of their brains?"

"Yes."

"You want to revise that statement?"

No, he didn't _want_ to, but apparently he was going to have to. "I... don't know what to tell you."

"Can I make a suggestion?" Yellow Lion was crouched behind the others. "I think 'fire at will' would be a great start."

Blue Lion cocked its head, looking back at him. "With the lions? I think he just asked for Voltron."

"First rule of combat, Princess, don't give the bad guy what he wants." Allura had given up trying to convince Hunk to call her by name if he didn't feel like it; after all, he was still calling the castle's chief of staff Lady Nanny. If _she_ couldn't change his attitude, nobody could. "Second rule of combat involves actually shootin' the bad guy, so if we can maybe get on that...?"

Personally, Keith wasn't convinced about facing down a robeast with the individual lions unless they absolutely had to. On the other hand, Hunk was right; if the enemy wanted Voltron, the first order of business should be not giving the enemy Voltron. "Okay team, you heard him. Pidge, Allura, go around back. Hunk, you're with me. Lance... just do what you do."

Red Lion darted ahead of the others, lasers blazing, flame erupting from its jaws as it bore down on their attacker. "Watch and learn!" Pidge and Allura darted wide around the flanks while Keith charged forward, with Hunk just behind him, blasting away with Yellow Lion's main cannon. Black Lion fired a spear volley which was easily sidestepped, but drove the armored form straight into the fire Lance was pouring on, which had to be worth something.

The admiral faced them down with an expression of impatient curiosity, dodging some attacks, simply enduring others. Once or twice he flinched—in all their time defending Arus, Keith had never seen a robeast _flinch_. That same alliance research which said the war constructs were only soulless machines had said they were largely desensitized to pain.

Clearly the research would need to be updated...

For a few seconds their target remained remarkably passive about the whole ordeal. But just before Green and Blue passed out of Yurak's probable field of vision, he acted, reaching one hand out and letting gleaming chains shoot from each finger.

"Watch it!"

Despite his warning the commander didn't do so well at dodging the attack himself; Black twisted away but the chains followed, snaring his craft by the tail rather than the neck where they'd been aiming. Which probably made what came next much worse, really.

Hunk and Allura had been caught quickly as well, while Lance's attempts at dodging lasted for a solid ten seconds. Only Pidge managed to evade the chain that had lashed out at him, mostly by not trying to move; Green Lion spat a whirlwind that twisted the metal into a useless tangle of warped links. He turned to help Allura and was caught off guard by a plasma burst from Yurak's other hand, sending Green to the dirt.

Apparently satisfied with four out of five, the robeast yanked hard on the chains and whirled the lions overhead. Keith squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth against the G-forces and bracing against a wave of nausea. Firing his shock tail might have been able to disrupt the chain, but there was also a pretty good chance he would hit one of the others—not worth the risk, not quite yet, though if this went on he might change his mind...

The shattering crash when the beast slammed them to the ground, with enough force to snap the chains, was almost merciful.

Yurak's voice was low. Irritated. "I'm only going to ask one more time."

"Oof." It was only with a great deal of difficulty that Keith managed to right Black Lion; his ears were still ringing from the impact. "So _that_ didn't go so well..."

"Yeah." Hunk was audibly dazed. "I'm sold. Let's give this dude what he wants."

"Couldn't have said it better myself." Red Lion struggled to its feet as Green Lion came charging around the robeast admiral, its approach uncontested. "We going, chief?"

There didn't seem to be much of a choice anymore. "We're going."

* * *

><p>The formation really was quite impressive... he could see it so clearly, his ocular implant enhanced with new sensors and wavelengths. The energy unleashed by the lions combining was incredible. More than just powerful, it had a mystical tinge to it, and he understood now why even the full might of his fleet hadn't been able to breach the force field. For a few moments, the lions simply ceased to exist fully on the material plane.<p>

Fortunately, not even Voltron could maintain such an ethereal presence, and the crackling energy faded as the great machine stepped out of its embrace.

Yurak stood calmly, facing down the lion demon. Facing it down as an _equal_. The moment held a glory and a fear which wove together into a reality more sublime than either feeling could ever be alone... he drank in the sensations for as long as he could. If he carried nothing else with him to the afterlife, he wished to carry this.

Into the afterlife... was he really so certain of his death?

_Yes_. He nodded, straightened. It was not yet time to vanquish this enemy. It was not within his power; even if he destroyed the machine, the fear of its rebirth—_again_—would remain. His true purpose was to strip away that facade of fear from this construct, to save his people from the terror that they might learn the truth. _Die well, and let others begin to dream of the ultimate victory_.

Voltron stepped forward, and Yurak matched its approach. "It's time we end this charade, Destroyer."

To his surprise, his opponent hesitated. "Voltron is now a _defender_, not a destroyer, Admiral Yurak. It doesn't need to be this way."

Defender? Intriguing. But there was no room for semantics in war. The enemy was the enemy, and the lion knight was the lion knight. "I'm afraid it does."

A hesitation. Then the great machine stepped back and... bowed? His good eye widened. Maybe it was as the witch had said. Maybe the humans _did_ know something of honor.

"Then it ends here."

"Indeed." _No. This is only where it begins_.

Voltron made the first move, reaching out with its left arm and firing a barrage of laser bolts. He had been hit with plenty of lasers in the initial assault by the lions, and wasn't inclined to be too worried—until they actually hit, scorching a path up his own arm. _Damn! _The jump in power was excruciatingly clear; this was no time to get complacent. He returned fire with a gesture from his left hand, sending searing plasma to rip into the lion which had attacked him.

The lion knight took the blow to its left side and charged, jumping at the last second. Missiles erupted from both feet—a massive, powerful warhead from the left, several guided rockets spiraling in from the right. That would have been awkward to even think about, but then, he was a robeast now. He had a flak cannon in his chest. Nothing seemed very odd after that.

Shrapnel from the cannon in question knocked out half of the missiles before they reached him, though the largest of the batch still exploded with enough force to drive him back a few paces.

It fascinated him how easily the enhancements came to him. Adjusting to his new form had barely taken any effort at all. His new abilities were simply _there_; launching chains or plasma was as easy and natural as breathing. Haggar did good work.

They traded blows for a bit. Were they so evenly matched? Or was Voltron biding its time as he was? The admiral's sword remained sheathed at his side, and the lion demon hadn't drawn anything from its own arsenal. Yet.

Suddenly Voltron sprang backwards, a maneuver that didn't seem to make sense at all...

Water erupted from the jaws of Blue Lion, slamming into him as a frigid wave that was somehow a thousand times worse than the flames and laser fire they'd been exchanging so far. Intellectually he knew why—he'd taken several burns, and the thermal shock was intensifying the wounds. His combat reflexes didn't care about the why, they just told him to _move_.

But he couldn't move. The water had frozen around him, locking him in an icy tomb as the winged knight bore down on him, shattering the ice, slamming him to the ground and sending pain lancing through his body.

_Get up! You may be prepared to die, but it won't be this easy!_

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the warships moving. Shifting, just slightly, as they watched their commander fall.

Lirik's voice rang in his ears. "Sir! The fleet stands ready. Do you not wish us to intervene?"

To what end? The fleet was no match for the lion god, not now. They all knew it. But the fact that they were prepared to defy his orders to save his life... there was something gratifying in that. A warmth that had no place on the field of combat. But it was not the Drule way to outright deny such feelings, either; he accepted their concern and let it strengthen his resolve.

It did not change his mind.

"No, I do _not_ want you to intervene!" He kicked Voltron off of him, scrambling to his feet and looking back at the _Death Defiant._ "I want you to watch. See the truth. This lion demon isn't the Voltron of legend. We have nothing to fear from it but death..." Drawing his sword as his opponent also regained its feet, Yurak charged. "Which means we have nothing to fear!"

Voltron produced a spiked emerald-green shield and blocked his first strike, a leaping overhand slash that would have bisected the machine easily if it had been foolish enough not to counter. But no, whatever else the humans might be, they were not foolish. No, they were very skilled indeed...

But he was a match for them. This he knew without doubt.

He pressed forward.

* * *

><p>"Hold it together, guys. We've got to get him on the defensive."<p>

"He's too _fast_," Pidge protested as another strike came in just below the shield. "This isn't working."

Lance snorted as Voltron's right arm came up and drove Yurak back with a blast of flame. "How about you give me the shield then, slowpoke?"

Green Lion's pilot snapped something in a Baltan language that Keith didn't understand and was quite certain he didn't want to. Best not to let that escalate, though Red's pilot had just chuckled in response. "Cool it, you two. You're right, we need to try something else." His eyes narrowed as he considered their options. The Blazing Sword was out; it was even more unwieldy than the shield, and they needed the flexibility of Voltron's secondary weapons right now. Blue's trident and Yellow's flails weren't terribly quick, and Red's pistols were wholly unsuitable for close combat. Which left...

"Whatever we're gonna do, we should probably get to it," Hunk suggested as he and Allura barely got them out of the way of another slash.

"Right." They banished the shield in a flare of green energy. "Draw Shock Sabers!"

The psi link didn't _usually_ carry emotions, but Keith was pretty sure he wasn't just imagining the confusion that rippled through the others. "Draw what?" Pidge muttered, even as slim gray blades appeared in both of Voltron's hands, crackling with electricity. "What's this about? Isn't the Blazing Sword enough for you?"

"Well, I figured Black must have _something_ more analogous to the other weapons, so I poked around a little bit during the last training run. I know I'm no engineer, but I can at least read a monitor."

"Huh. Fair enough."

Yurak had pulled back for a moment at the unexpected new weapons as well, but recovered just as quickly. "That's not going to be enough." He redoubled his assault, only to have Voltron parry the rapid strikes and start to push him back.

"Okay, this is more like it. This is _awesome_. Let's kick his ass."

"How many times am I going to have to tell you guys not to get cocky?"

"Probably forever. Being cocky is so much more fun." Seeing an opening, Red Lion dropped and sliced its blade across the admiral's thigh, drawing a snarl of pain.

The low blow had clearly been as much insult as injury; the robeast's skin glowed blinding blue for a moment, and a wave of force knocked Voltron back. Before they could recover he was on top of them, slamming his sword down hard enough to take a good-sized chunk of armor out of their right shoulder before a smoke grenade from Yellow Lion's mouth distracted him. Not that he actually moved; Red and Green brought the sabers up to push the enemy's sword away, though the empowered Drule was strong enough to resist being fully forced off, locking the blades in place.

Fortunately, Voltron had a few other weapons at its disposal.

Hunk's voice was light with cheerful anticipation. "C'mon Princess, let's get 'im!" Swinging around the great machine planted a vicious kick squarely into the robeast's chest; Blue Lion fired a volley of missiles as it kicked out, shattering the armored breastplate and sending Yurak stumbling back with a howl.

Now it was time. "Form Blazing Sword!"

Yurak was on his feet again by the time the blade shimmered into being, but he was clearly still reeling, blood pouring from the hole in his chest. Not that it seemed to be slowing him down. Charging with his own blade leveled, he dodged Voltron's first wild slash and countered with a strike that nearly severed Green Lion from formation.

"Come on guys, _focus_." Keith saw the opening and mentally pulled the others along with him. He could feel Lance and Pidge responding, altering the next blow, carving a brutal wound down the enemy's ribcage.

And yet he still didn't _die_.

"Galra kulvraga sa mutsorus!" the admiral roared, leaping into the air with his own blade held high. If such a blow connected they would yet lose this battle, but...

"Don't try to match him!" Keith yelled, nearly too late as Voltron took to the sky as well.

The Blazing Sword swung out in a low one-handed strike, along a nearly horizontal path that had clearly taken all of Lance's focus to keep straight. But it _did_ stay straight. And though it wasn't a strike designed for power, it was more than enough to slice cleanly through as it impacted on the robeast's neck.

Yurak fell. Didn't explode, as robeasts usually did. Just... fell, the head landing several meters away from the body. Staring at the fallen admiral, Keith couldn't help feeling like everything he'd missed so far had come together in a moment.

He'd called Voltron Destroyer. True enough based on the myths, but certainly its current incarnation had done little to merit the title. That had been unnerving enough, but...

_Galra kulvraga sa mutsorus_. He knew the expression; anyone with even a passing acquaintance with the Drules knew it. It was High Drulik, the archaic tongue which the Drules considered nearly sacred. Millions of Drules had died with the words on their lips, and millions of Alliance warriors had been slain by enemies bearing that battle cry.

_The Supremacy stands eternal._

It was an invocation of defiance, not conquest. Perhaps this was no longer about Arus at all.

Shaking his head, Keith turned his attention to the enemy fleet. It looked like they were preparing to deploy a jumpgate, though they were taking their time about it. As if they weren't quite certain they were ready to leave. Yet another retreat, but suddenly it almost made sense. And if he was reading things correctly...

He pushed the robot forward. "Voltron Force to _Death Defiant_. If you want to take the body, we'll stand back."

"We will?" Lance asked quietly; Keith noticed, and was pleasantly surprised, that his second had been careful not to transmit that publicly.

"We will. I can't explain it quite yet... but I think we've been fighting the wrong war."

The warships paused in their movements, and then the dreadnought moved forward. "_Death Defiant_ responding." It was a low, cultured voice. "I am Prince Lotor of the Ninth Kingdom. We are unused to fighting civilized foes; your courtesy is most appreciated." A blue-white beam erupted from the front of the ship, engulfing Yurak's body, and after several seconds of focus the lifeless form simply shimmered out of existence.

Without another word, the fleet pulled back and vanished.

* * *

><p>The <em>Death Defiant<em>'s bridge was silent.

Lotor had never heard a ship go so silent.

Technically Lirik had been in command of the dreadnought for this operation, but she'd been briefly overwhelmed by the shock, so he'd taken the liberty of answering the Voltron commander's offer for her. She'd given him a nod of thanks for the presumption.

None of Yurak's closest aides had believed he actually meant to go through with this, and the reality had stuck cold and hard.

It was war, and he knew many would say that to mourn so much for a single fallen warrior was foolish sentimentality. A liability in combat. But Lotor couldn't bring himself to be so heartlessly pragmatic. Loyalty was a valuable thing, and the loyalty shown by these warriors—these warriors who'd been thrown into a seemingly impossible mission against a god, yet never lost their faith in their commander—was a show of strength, not weakness.

The trip back to Korrinoth would be long and uncomfortable, and the prince wanted to get off the bridge. Give them some time to recover from the shock.

Besides, there was something he needed to attend to, and it would be simplified if he took care of it before they were _too_ far from Arus. "Grayl, accompany me, if you would." The young aide had quickly become Lotor's favorite; he was bold and willing to speak his mind. He'd also been rather new to the _Death Defiant_, which meant he was one of the least impacted by what they'd just witnessed—though even he seemed quite shell-shocked.

Understandable.

Grayl also knew all of the transmission codes, whereas Lotor had only been given those for the bridge. A small oversight that would be corrected as soon as possible, he decided as he and his companion entered a small conference room and activated the comm crystal there.

It took nearly five minutes, but finally a pale-haired human form appeared on the screen. "My apologies for the late response; I had to find some privacy."

"Of course. You watched the battle, I trust?"

"Quite impossible to miss when I'm a guest in their castle, you must realize."

"True enough, true enough. And kindly remove that suspicious look; I'm aware of your conflicts with my father, but I have no intention of asking you to assassinate anyone."

Relief flickered into the spy's face. "I meant no disrespect, sire. What do you wish of me, then?"

"The mission has changed. Develop a profile for each of the pilots and their lions; gather what information you can for their support personnel as well. No detail is too small, no point of information is irrelevant. Take as long for this project as you require to be thorough. I intend to take command of the mission on Arus, but it will be some time before it's made official."

Bokar nodded. "As you wish, Prince Lotor."

Cutting off the comm, he turned to Grayl. Some interest seemed to have made its way through the hollowness that had filled the young warrior's eyes. "What manner of creature was _that?_ I've never seen such a ridiculous being."

"It's a glamour, nothing more. I believe the humans are meant to find it attractive." Lotor shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "I can't fathom their tastes, but it seems to be serving him well so far, and that's all we can ask for."

"Aye, sir."

Lotor checked the ship's layout; he still wasn't used to Dispater-class vessels. The body of the fallen champion had been transported to the primary cargo hold. No doubt Haggar would reverse the robeast transformation before his official funeral—a ceremony which would surely be grand and glorious in a way the gruff old admiral would've found embarrassing.

No matter. Funerals were for the living. And Yurak had died for the glory of the living, hadn't he?

Still. For the moment, there was the body, precisely as it had been when Voltron struck it down. And the dreadnought's crew would be leaving their stations to go and see it. To reassure themselves that even in death, their admiral remained a Drule—that he was not some withered husk whose soul had been stripped away and banished to the hell of lions for eternity.

Yes, the mission had changed. Everything had changed.

"Come, Grayl. Let's go and pay our respects."

* * *

><p>The time had finally come for this one to wake.<p>

He was an Earthling, and that was unusual. The lithe, warm-blooded creatures which called themselves human had far surpassed their apparent physical and mental limits when the race reached out to the stars, using quick wits and seemingly endless curiosity and creativity to forge a prominent place in the galactic order. But still, it was rare to see Earthlings in the Denubian galaxy, so distant from their native Milky Way. Rare and interesting.

Ebb could care for an Earthling, of course. The Ebbian medical establishment prided itself on its thoroughness. Sixty-four sentient races of the Galaxy Alliance, two hundred fifteen unaffiliated or non-sentient species, and a dozen subspecies of the Drule race could be cured of any ailment, if only they reached this hospital haven. It was not uncommon to see such devastating damage as this one carried...

Manali-kan Kylos gazed at the pale-skinned creature and wondered how it had come to be this way. He knew nothing of these wounds. Only that the patient's name was Sven Holgersson—given name first, in the style of many human cultures—and he'd had no business surviving transit.

Yet here he was.

Ebb's medical philosophy was one of completeness. The physical damage could and would be repaired, but in most cases, grievous physical harm came with deep emotional wounds. The specialists were taking care of the injuries. Kylos was a sanahar—trained in medicine, yes, but also mysticism. His primary role was to handle the psychological matters, to befriend and care for crippled patients who were so far from anything they'd ever known. He knew nothing of the Earthling's situation because he wanted the Earthling to explain it himself; entering a case blind was the first key to the sanahar's art.

Deciding he'd waited long enough, Kylos pressed a button with one long, orange finger, and settled into a chair next to the injured man's bed.

The waking agent worked swiftly. Within a matter of seconds, the Earthling began to twitch—to the extent that he could—and his eyes flashed open.

"Don't try to move." Kylos kept his voice gentle. "You'll only damage yourself. I know this must be a shock to you, but remain calm, and all will be explained."

Movement immediately ceased, except for the eyes. They were dark, piercing, fixing on him as if they could drill straight through his skin into his soul. Kylos considered the gaze and bowed his head respectfully. _A mystic born, but a warrior bred_. He'd heard that Earth had no serious mystical tradition, but never really believed it, and this human only confirmed that thought. All races served their souls in their own way.

"Who are you?" His voice was hoarse and ragged, as was only natural, though there was something else about it that seemed off. Worth noting.

"My name is Kylos." Knowing what the next question would be, he continued, "I am Ebbian, and you are on the hospital planet Ebb now. Your injuries were—and remain—quite critical. Sending you here was your only chance of survival."

Silence as the human let this sink in. Then he closed his eyes again. "How long has it been?" The strangeness of his voice was resolving itself into something consistent. An accent. All humans had accents, of course, but Kylos had not heard one like this before.

His patient's questions were good, which pleased him—for all the physical damage he remained mentally sharp, even so soon after waking. "You've been in a coma for just over a month."

The news drew no reaction. No involuntary movement, no quickening of breath or even pulse. Only an almost eerie calm. "How bad was it?"

A delicate question. In many cases, it was best for the patient not to know such things, certainly not so soon after waking. But... _with this one it will be all right_. "Very bad. Most of the lesser fractures and lacerations you sustained have been repaired, and your blood has replenished itself marvelously." Kylos folded his hands. "Your spine was severed, but has been successfully rejoined. The overall nerve damage is still severe, and several major fractures are still healing." He leaned forward, just slightly. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Yes."

And there it was. A simple response that said so much more by what was _not_ said.

_Very well. In your own time_. He nodded his understanding. "Allow me to explain myself. I am a sanahar—the word doesn't really translate to your language—my purpose is to aid in your recovery in all manners."

Sven studied him with a look of curiosity. Perhaps skepticism. Then he shrugged, to the extent one could shrug while lying down with nerve damage that made every move slow and agonizing. He said nothing else.

Kylos couldn't help feeling this was going to be more difficult than he'd thought.


	9. Truth Will Out

**Arusian Crusade: Changing Tides**  
>Chapter 8: Truth Will Out<p>

_Longest chapter ever. There was no good place to split it up, so, oh well.  
><em>_Shout out to the Snarktron Force, even if they keep doing their best to make sure I _never_ get anything productive done. Ya'll rock!_

* * *

><p>If nothing else, the little incident at castle control had told Bokar he needed to be more careful with his scouts. The conjured serpents were wonderful tools; his people had been some of the most versatile summoners in the Denubian. But they were only going to cause him problems if they kept attacking his hosts.<p>

So there would be no more attacks. The cobras no longer sought to defend themselves; they simply dispelled their own forms when sighted. From what he'd overheard, it was driving the mice crazy. And things which drove the mice crazy also drove Pidge crazy. So Pidge wasn't in the hangar right now. He was arguing with the robotic rodents over their latest supposed sighting. It was just Hunk and Bokar, examining the fully-repaired shuttle.

"How's it look?"

"Flawless. Amazing that you were able to do this without structural schematics." He _was_ truly impressed. The ship looked as good as new, if not better—he'd never heard the craft's engines run so quiet. When he'd fled Sennec just ahead of the Drule invasion, he hadn't really had a chance to pick the shiniest new ship in the fleet, and when his people had realized what he was doing... well, not _all_ of the damage the Voltron Force's engineers had fixed was the result of his being shot down on Arus.

Hunk just shrugged off the compliment. "We'll have to get you out on a test flight later. Not until Pidge gets done yellin' at Cheddar, though, he's gonna want to keep an eye on things. Think he's got a couple things to ask you before he's satisfied, too. Something about a hyperactive transponder?"

_What?_ Mechanics weren't his strong point, but Bokar truly had no idea what that might be referring to. "I'm not certain how much I can tell you, honestly."

Shrug. "I wouldn't think it's gonna mess with your flying, one way or another. My little buddy's just kinda detail obsessive." He took a few steps away from the shuttle to the hangar's main doors, overlooking the desert. "Wish he'd get here while the weather's nice, it's a perfect time for a test flight."

The weather being nice _was_ a plus. Storms could break over the Castle of Lions with shocking swiftness, and Bokar really didn't like rain. He didn't like contact with water in much of any form, really; even drinking it still occasionally made him flinch. "Are you in such a hurry?"

"Nah, not _me_. Depends how fast you're wantin' to get off Arus, is all."

"Honestly..." Was this the person to mention this to? It was the princess who'd told him he was welcome to stay as long as he wanted. But then, the big pilot was so open and accepting, it was hard to imagine him reacting badly. "If it's not too much of an imposition, I hope to remain. At least for some time longer." He looked out at the desert as well. It really _was_ so much like the sands of Sennec... glittering in the sunlight, clean and bright and beautiful.

He was homesick... that was the word.

Just one more thing to add to his list of problems he'd brought on himself.

Hunk cocked his head. "Well, you know we don't mind having you around. Except Lance, but he's outvoted somethin' awful. But with the snake infestations and Drule attacks and all, I'm kinda surprised you aren't dying to get outta here as fast as you can."

Bokar considered this. There were several ways to answer that question, really; so many lies he could tell. But there were truths, also. And the answer he chose to give was more truth than lie. "I have faith in Voltron."

He did. And so long as that faith continued to be proven correct, he could have the best of both worlds.

There were worse ways to live.

* * *

><p>Lotor sat in his quarters, reviewing the information from their agent on Arus. He knew his father thought rather little of Bokar, but the prince didn't see why; the spy seemed quite competent, for a lesser being, and his cowardice made him as loyal as any Drule. Perhaps more than most. After all, in the Supremacy, loyalty to one's lord was absolute... unless you could arrange an unfortunate accident to see them replaced.<p>

Such coups were rare, but when they happened, the orchestrator was assumed to be entitled to the job. The strong survived. Were it not for the enlightenment brought by honor and discipline, Drule society would have been pure anarchy.

The first personnel file was on the new pilot of Blue Lion. Princess Allura of Arus—full title Crown Princess Allura Alfori d'Malaika—last heir of the fallen King Alfor. It was a short profile; she was still by far the weakest of the pilots, though she had mystical capabilities as well. Spirit talking, they called it on Arus. Lotor snorted. He'd always found ghost-calling to be a weak, soft branch of the occult. One didn't honor the ancestors by disturbing their rest. One honored the ancestors by giving offerings, and by conquering in their name.

An image was included. And as the holographic form flickered to life inside the comm crystal, the prince's sharp eyes grew wide in shock.

Princess Allura was...

Beautiful. Radiant. Magnificent. He kept seizing on words and rejecting them as not sufficiently summing up the golden-haired vision before him. Staring, continuing to search for words, it took him a few moments to remind himself that she was Arusian. Not Drule... and that was troublesome.

So far, Voltron's victories could be explained away easily. It wasn't about the pilots, it was about the weapon they'd uncovered—even a monkey with a grenade could kill a Drule with a sword, after all. But staring at the image of the princess, so many assumptions fell away.

How could a lesser being be so beautiful? No. How could someone so beautiful be a lesser being?

Lotor knew he was an idealist, perhaps too much so. He'd driven several of his instructors quite mad back on Straton, insisting on conducting exercises with an eye much more toward glory than practicality. But the insidious wave of so-called 'pragmatism' which was slowly making its way through the kingdom was far more dangerous than a few supposedly-outdated ideals.

If they continued on this path... how long until even discipline and honor were seen as archaic indulgences? If they reached that point the kingdom—no—the whole Supremacy would tear itself apart. It was so obvious, yet they dared to call him naive?

Lotor was not about to abandon his own convictions. And if that meant appreciating an inferior, so be it... Allura of Arus was gorgeous. He didn't care if it was proper to think so or not.

Suddenly the mission against Voltron became twice as important. His path was clear; the lion knight would fall, and the princess would be his. After all, it would be his right as the superior and victor to take what he wished of the spoils, wouldn't it? If he chose to court her properly once she was in his hands, well... his father could just deal with that.

Of course, it would be best not to mention this objective until the Arus operation was his. Discretion was the better part of valor.

* * *

><p>Quite logically, Allura's being accepted by Blue Lion did not automatically confer mastery of the craft. As soon as the lions had been repaired after the strange Drule robeast's defeat, the team went right back to holding regular training exercises.<p>

Keith claimed it was as much for the experienced pilots as for the princess, and Coran found that insistence admirable, though he wasn't really fooling anyone. In any case there was no doubt who was benefiting _most_. And to the old advisor's untrained eye, it looked like she was indeed beginning to display some significant skill in the lion.

Nanny wasn't convinced, but he wasn't too concerned about that. She was _never_ going to be convinced, though she kept watching the combat exercises for some reason. Perhaps just to feel as though she could keep an eye on the princess. As had become the standard, Prince Bokar stood off to the side and watched as well; he'd recently been granted permanent sanctuary on Arus, and there was some talk of at least assigning him to the Voltron Force as a mystic combat specialist.

As they watched the training run progress, the comms beeped an alert of an incoming message from... Earth? Coran raised an eyebrow. That was unusual... it was signed by the Alliance's scouting and information division. Directed to Keith and the Arus Expeditionary Force, but as it was an official communication rather than personal, the advisor went ahead and opened it himself. It might be important.

It was important.

_Lt. Kogane: Be advised, subject is deceptive and possibly dangerous. No record of a Prince Bokar in official or unofficial reports from Sennec. Unconfirmed reports suggest a Mageguard Bokar was responsible for betraying the planet to the Drules._

He froze, staring at the words on the monitor, hearing a low gasp from behind him as the false prince saw the message. Now that it came to his attention, he did remember Keith mentioning he was going to check in with the Alliance on their guest's credentials... he hadn't thought much of it at the time. But when he turned he saw a picture of pure panic.

The gold flecks in Bokar's eyes were nearly glowing, and his body had gone tense. "They... but you... how did... why...?" His voice was suddenly quite shrill.

_Don't be hasty_, Coran ordered himself, squeezing Nanny's hand to send the same message. Bokar could be a perfectly common Sennecite name. The unconfirmed reports could be incorrect, the false title could have a simple reason behind it. There could be so many logical explanations. Jumping to conclusions wouldn't help anything. "Is this true?" he asked, as gently as he could.

"It's... it is not..." His panic only seemed to be intensifying. "You must understand, I..." A spark of true regret in his violet eyes, then his expression hardened and he dropped into a martial stance. "...I didn't want to have to do this. But if it's going to be you or me, you're going to have to die!"

_Or perhaps things are exactly as they seem. Alright then. Best do something while you still have a chance_.

Do something. Like what, exactly?

His cane.

Coran didn't carry a cane because he needed one. He carried it because the carved shaft of ebony was a family heirloom, and it ought to be kept close rather than sitting in some ornamental case. Besides, as King Alfor had joked on more than one occasion, carrying a cane automatically doubled one's wisdom and dignity. The fact that it would also be quite painful if swung with sufficient force had never seemed important before.

With a sharp _crack_ he brought the cane down on Bokar's head, and he stumbled to the side with a hissing yelp of pain. "That was the last mistake you'll make, old man!"

Mistake? He didn't think it had been a mistake. Actually he'd found the act somewhat gratifying... as the false prince turned to face him again with hatred burning in his eyes, Coran thought quickly. He certainly doubted he could win in a brawl with the younger man, but he had the home court advantage. He knew every corridor of the Castle of Lions, and Bokar most assuredly did not.

So what would the Voltron Force do in this situation? There was little doubt.

"Tag," he said calmly. "You're it."

He ran.

It would, of course, be best to make sure he was being followed, and he hesitated around the first corner to be certain he could hear the false prince chasing him. Of course, the other alternative would've been to stay in the control room with Nanny, who'd looked to be recovering from the shock and ready to find something heavy to hit him with. Chasing the old man with the cane _must_ have seemed like the better option.

Knowing the terrain served him well for a minute or two, and he was in decent shape. He was able to stay a step ahead of the traitor, though losing him seemed to be quite out of the question, and once or twice a burst of sorcerous energy passed much too close for comfort. But soon enough he sprinted into the informal dining room... and found himself in a dead end. After all, his knowledge of the castle did not allow him to foresee that the far door would be locked from the outside, no doubt a thoughtful gesture by one of Nanny's aides hoping to keep Hunk out of the kitchen.

Inconvenient.

"Nowhere to run now," Bokar growled as he appeared in the doorway and studied the scene.

"True enough," the advisor agreed mildly. His calm tone seemed to work; the pale-haired figure looked unnerved. But that was going to prove a very temporary respite.

_Keep thinking. Thinking is what you do best, isn't it? There has to be something here you can use._

Thinking _was_ what he did best, it always had been. Higher nobles were expected to diversify into war and politics, but as a baronet, he'd never seen the need to. Not even when he'd been granted the then-Castle of the Elements after the duke of the province died suddenly with no heir. That failure of versatility left him at a terrible disadvantage right now, but on the other hand... it wasn't as if he just sat around advising into a void all day. Everyone needed a hobby.

Coran's happened to be discus throwing.

Seizing one of the plates neatly stacked in preparation for tonight's dinner, he whipped into a flawless throwing motion and watched the fine ceramic disc just long enough to be certain it was on target; rather than stopping to watch the impact he grabbed a second plate and flung it as well.

"Argh!" Bokar reared back as the first projectile struck, shattering against his forehead and leaving several bleeding gouges there. Disbelief clouded the false prince's eyes. "You cannot be serio—" The second disc hitting his chest cut him off, and he staggered back with a sharp intake of breath.

Coran threw another plate. "Not only am I serious, I can keep this up all day."

Technically untrue. Certainly he could keep pelting his adversary as long as there were plates left, but sooner or later—probably sooner—he was going to run out of ammunition.

All he could do was hope he'd bought enough time by then.

* * *

><p>Exceptionally awe-inspiring flight maneuvers generally took enough of Lance's concentration that he preferred for people to keep their mouths shut. That luxury was usually not afforded to him, so he had to settle for moderately awe-inspiring maneuvers.<p>

For some reason Allura kept trying to hit him with lasers today. Oh, right. She was supposed to be, wasn't she? Well, if she actually hit him at some point he could worry about that.

Nanny's panicked voice coming over the comms was not entirely unusual, though Coran generally managed to keep her calmed down. When she spoke up it usually had to do with something happening to Allura, of course. The whole combat pilot thing was never going to sit well with the older woman, and the team had accepted that was just something they would have to deal with.

Lance had reflexively tuned her out this time, but his attention returned when he realized she wasn't harping about the princess. "—back here as quickly as you can!"

"You heard the lady. Move!"

No, he really hadn't heard the lady, but it was probably best if he didn't admit that. The urgency in Keith's tone was more than enough for him right now. "On it!" Pulling Red Lion up he performed one good loop around Blue Lion, which swatted at him with its tail laser, before pulling ahead of the pack and zeroing in on the closest entrance to the castle, a cavern carved into the cliff the structure was perched on.

On second thought... maybe he should have _some_ clue what they were getting into. Opening a private channel to Pidge he muttered, "What'd Nanny say?"

"You think I listen to that banshee? Something about Bokar not being a prince and chasing Coran around the castle."

Well then. The first part of that did not surprise him; the second part ought to be interesting. He switched to a channel with Black Lion. "I told you so."

"Gloat later, save Coran now."

"Do you honestly think I can't do both at the same time? Gloating is a free action."

Keith cut the channel off, which was really very gratifying.

Their commander was leading the charge as they left the lions and entered the castle. He had his sidearm out; Allura was at his side drawing her warbow, which she'd taken to carrying in the cockpit with her and apparently could fire on the run. Which was fairly impressive, actually. Hunk and Pidge, like Lance himself, hadn't bothered to pull out their weapons yet. They were probably waiting for a target. For his own part, Lance just left his guns holstered because he was looking forward to punching pretty boy really really hard.

In the face.

"Problem. She doesn't know where they actually ran to once they left the control room," Keith said as they stopped at the main access elevator and looked around.

"No problem at all. Let's split up, gang."

Frown. But either their fearless leader didn't have any better ideas, or he just decided this was a good time to let his second take the lead. "Right. Allura, you're with me. Hunk, Pidge, stick together. Lance, you can handle yourself, I trust."

"Of course I can. But how come you get to go with the chick?"

"Because—dammit, Lance, _must_ you—"

"—You know, I know the castle best." Allura crossed her arms. "So I'll go alone and you two won't have to be deprived of each others' charming company." Hefting her bow again, she was gone. Pidge and Hunk snickered, both quickly falling silent and bolting down a side corridor when their leader's icy gaze fixed on them.

"If she gets hurt I'll kill you," Keith growled. "Come on."

"She'll be fine." They moved up the stairs, and after a minute of pacing the upper corridors Lance caught a faint sound off to his left. "You hear that?"

"Yeah. Move!"

The sound resolved itself into a rhythmic clatter, punctuated by the occasional snarl or yelp of pain. It was coming from one of the dining rooms—the one they usually used was referred to as the 'informal' dining room, though he had no idea what that meant. It seemed just as formal as the other one, only smaller. Maybe 'low-capacity dining room' was somehow insufficiently castle-like.

Bursting into the room, they found one of the silliest things Lance had ever seen in his life. Also quite possibly one of the most awesome. Coran was standing behind a table, facing down Bokar, who was attempting to move forward. Except that every time he started to charge or attempted to focus on a spell, a plate sailed forth and either forced him to dodge, or shattered all over him.

Even from the back it was clear he was trailing blood from Coran's assault. Not bad for, as Hunk said, a stuffy old noble who thought a cane was a fashion accessory.

Pressing a finger to his lips, warning the advisor not to give them away, Lance moved forward with his best mix of speed and stealth and slapped one hand down on Bokar's shoulder, spinning him around and slamming his other fist squarely into the bleeding but still way-too-pretty face.

"I've been waiting _so_ long for that moment."

"Oh, no doubt," the false prince growled, staggering back but not falling under the blow. "You can take that last happiness to your grave with you. I've had enough of these games!" His skin flared briefly, a curious pattern of green and brown-gold light pouring from him, as his violet eyes became red.

"Keith, you might want to call this in."

"Yeah. I might." His friend glanced at the wristcomp he was wearing as though he'd forgotten it was there, which he very well may have. The devices had only come in the day before; Lance was still getting used to wearing one again himself. It was actually mildly irritating when hitting things. "Allura, Pidge, Hunk, we're in the small dining room, we've got him cornered."

_Oh. Can we just call it the _small_ dining room? That does seem easier._

Another plate hit Bokar hard in the back, but the light didn't fade as he stumbled forward. "You might want to reconsider _that_ assessment, Commander." In a blinding flare of green, the false prince's skin seemed to rip itself apart, revealing a form that wasn't pretty or graceful at all.

Lance stared. _Well then_. The monstrosity—that was really only the word, monstrosity—before him could be best described as a bipedal cobra, glaring with crimson eyes as its forked tongue flicked over its fangs. It stood a solid eight feet tall, covered in gleaming green scales, fine clothing replaced with brownish armor. The only thing that hadn't changed was the ruby orb hanging around his neck.

"Okay, so I have to admit, I did not see that coming." It almost seemed _too_ appropriate. The pretty pretty prince was an actual, literal, dirty snake. "By the way, Keith. He's super ugly now and I still don't like him. There goes your theory."

"Would you shut up and shoot him?"

"I can do both! Gloating is still a free action," the other pilot retorted, whipping out his pistols and opening up with a volley of searing energy. Most of the bolts glanced off the shining scales. "...Oh well _that's_ inconvenient."

Keith, whose sidearm was equally energy-based, wasn't having any better luck. "You've got to be kidding."

"Perhaps you'd like things to get worse," Bokar hissed, producing glowing spheres of light in both clawed hands. The lights coalesced into a mass of writhing cobras, which he flung at the two pilots before returning his attention to Coran. "Much worse!" A burst of flame arced out in the advisor's general direction, but he managed to vault back over a chair and avoid the fire, landing with a yelp.

Vaporizing one of the snakes with a plasma bolt, Keith growled in frustration as the other dozen kept coming. "Cover me, we need to get his attention—"

Before any attempt at attention-getting could be carried out, a silver arrow stabbed into the serpentman's back, piercing the reflective scales cleanly and drawing a howl of pain.

"You boys call this having him cornered? Clearly I'm missing some nuances of combat terminology."

Turning, Lance saw Allura wearing a smirk that could have matched some of his best, aiming another arrow at Bokar. She had also picked up some reinforcements while rushing to the dining room. All five mice were flanking her in the doorway, and seeing the cobras they rushed forward with warlike squeaks.

Whirling on the newcomer, Bokar looked like he was about to try to say something intimidating, but then his eyes fell on the metal rodents biting and clawing their way through his pet cobras. "So this is the mighty Voltron Force, reduced to throwing plates and drafting mice? At some point, don't you have to stop getting more ridiculous?"

The princess fired another arrow, this one sailing straight through his hood. "Is that better?"

A hiss. Clearly he no longer cared for these odds, but for some reason he chose not to just run past Coran and out the back door of the dining room. Probably the same reason Coran himself had decided to make his last stand here, whatever that might be... in any case the beast warped forward, the air shimmering just in front of Allura to herald his reappearance, and he knocked her to the ground before charging out into the hallway.

Lance managed to get one last shot off as the snake monster vanished, scorching into the bleeding wound the first arrow had left in his back. "Hunk, Pidge, if you happen to see a giant snake with legs on your way over here, hold him down for me. I want to punch him a few more times."

Hunk's voice came back over the comm after a moment's pause. "We don't want to know, do we?"

"Probably not." Shrugging, the blue-armored pilot turned his attention to his boss. "We _aren't_ gonna just let him go, right?"

"Of course not. Let's just make sure things are cleaned up here first." Keith gestured to the room at large. It _was_ a pretty ridiculous scene, actually. The mice were pushing cobra corpses into a neat pile under Cheddar's impatient direction; Coran was sprawled out in the midst of several overturned chairs, looking dazed.

Only fair. He'd more than held his own.

"Check you _out_," Lance chuckled, walking over and helping the man to his feet. "Guys, forget this 'royal advisor' crap, I think he just earned a new title. How's 'Coran the Plate-Ninja' sound to you?"

"Like something that will get me in trouble with Nanny," Coran murmured, looking over the ceramic shards littered about the room with concern, "though I suppose it has a certain ring to it."

"Damn straight." Turning to their rescuer, he glowered at the princess just long enough to prove he was deeply annoyed. "I don't understand you. I can't even throw a punch without having to compensate for this stupid wristcomp, and you're firing a bow like it's not even there."

Allura shrugged. "It may as well not be. You should see some of the bracelets I've had to wear on formal occasions."

"Ah, yes. The burdens of royalty."

She rolled her eyes, and probably would've elbowed him had she been in range, which he supposed should count as a partial success. Then she turned her attention to the mice. "One of you watch Nanny and Coran. The rest of you make sure there aren't any of those cobras left in the castle vents; we're going after Bokar."

Cheddar saluted with his tail.

"Hey," Pidge's voice crackled over the wristcomps, "we've got him. He's kind of fast though, you all might want to catch up. Heading for the northeast exit."

Convenient; that was where they'd left the lions. Maybe he would try to steal one and just get eaten. Probably not; he knew how much trouble Blue had given Allura, after all. _Hope springs eternal, and all that junk._

They caught up to him just outside, with the mountains off to the right and the lake at his back. The lions were sitting quietly to the left, and Bokar didn't seem to be paying any attention to them, though he was also a little preoccupied with the fact that Pidge and Hunk had gotten in his way.

It appeared they'd been holding a conversation. Or at least, the spy was snarling in the orange-armored warrior's general direction and had not had his face shot off yet.

"—reward from King Zarkon will just have to make up for it."

Keith stepped forward. "The Drules don't care about rewarding you, Bokar. You're just a lesser being to them, and you're making a big mistake."

"Oh, don't speak to me of mistakes. It was _not_ supposed to be this way," the monster hissed. "You forced my hand, Commander Kogane. You and your distrust." He conjured a trio of serpents; two disintegrated from Lance's pistol shots, while the last was neatly bisected by one of Pidge's shuriken. "I think the one who slays the servants of the lion-god ought to dispel any illusions of being a _lesser being_, oughtn't he?"

"Maybe, maybe not." Hunk's hazel eyes flickered. "You don't hafta take the chance. Just bail on him, he's not worth it! You _know_ we'll protect you."

"No. It's too late. There is no other way!" Flickering out of existence the serpentman reappeared behind the big pilot, striking hard with his claws before Hunk spun around and landed a wicked uppercut to the serpentine jaw.

"C'mon, dude..."

"Enough! I've heard enough!"

_Okay, time to talk with fists then_. Lance lunged forward, landing a punch to the back of the snake beast's hood. "You asked for it!" He followed up with a kick to Bokar's heel, which seemed to be quite a bit less armored than the rest of his body, and felt a faint but satisfying snap.

"We'll see who's asking for it." Bokar vanished again, and Lance threw himself to the side, expecting another teleporting attack. But this time the air rippled well in front of him; the prince was fleeing. Sprinting for the lake. The team followed, but there was no way they were going to catch him, especially not when he blinked one last time and reappeared just over the edge of the water. He seemed to hover for a moment, perhaps under his own power, before dropping in with a splash.

"Think snakes can swim?"

"Depends on the type of snake."

"Snakes with arms and legs."

"No clue."

It didn't take long for them to get an answer, though it really wasn't the answer anyone had hoped for. A shadow erupted from the lake, vaulting over them, landing with enough force to shake the earth.

It was Bokar, more or less. Well, more. A lot more, really, considering the serpent beast was now standing probably a head taller than Voltron. That was actually very inconvenient. And _where_ he was standing was even more inconvenient.

Between them and the lions.

"I _hate_ water," the abomination hissed. "And now I'm going to take it out on you." Reaching one clawed arm out to his side, Bokar conjured a gleaming steel scythe. "I'll reap all your heads at once!"

"Scatter," Keith ordered. "If just _one_ of us can get to the lions, that might be enough to—"

"Do you think I'm deaf, Commander Kogane?" Gesturing with the scythe, the creature conjured a glowing circle around the team, and as the glow faded the earth became covered in writhing cobras. "You will _not_ use those damnable lions. You will die like insects, in the name of the Drule Supremacy!"

Lance grimaced. Apparently whatever had increased Bokar's size had enhanced his sorcery as well; that might prove to be an issue. _Well, may as well shoot the damned things_. Whipping his pistols out he gunned down a pair of snakes that had been darting toward Allura, then took a position behind Keith to cover half of the circle. The commander was already blasting away at the other half, silent now and deadly focused, and probably also out of ideas.

Hunk lowered his rifle and carved a swath of death through the snakes to his right, but the gap closed almost as swiftly as it had appeared. "Huh. Target-rich environment," he observed, sounding entirely unconcerned, and took two more shots with similarly poor results. "_Really_ target-rich environment."

Crouched next to his fellow engineer, Pidge wasn't even trying to turn his throwing stars on the cobras, which was probably reasonable. "I'm going to make a break for it." His voice was low, barely audible over all the hissing.

"Don't even think about it, that's suicidal."

"Yeah, probably. I don't suppose there's any way to distract him."

Lance looked up and squinted, looking for anything that might count as a weak point, and hesitated. He was certain he'd seen something in the sunlight, just over the giant creature's shoulder... a flicker, a shadow. "Did any of you see—"

Before he could finish the question, the sky exploded.

For an instant the pilot found himself rooted to the ground, breathless, heart pounding with terror. He'd seen this before. Death erupting from above, burning stars throwing themselves at the earth to consume all they touched, while he was stranded on the ground. Helpless in a way he'd sworn he never would be again. But this was different, this was...

Bolts of red and gold energy speared into the back of Bokar's broad hood, and he whirled on the source of his torment with a shriek. "What's... no! NO! It can't be!" The cobras vanished as a crimson glow began building in his weapon, Voltron's pilots forgotten, and as he swung the scythe a blazing arc of energy shot toward the approaching silhouettes.

"Go! Now!" The Voltron Force bolted forward as Bokar stumbled back from another volley, Lance taking a careful shot at the wound he'd left on the beast's ankle just to make a point as he ran past. Almost immediately the leg he'd shot buckled and the titan lost his balance completely, crashing back into the lake.

"I'm taking full credit for that."

"You do that, Lance. You get a gold star for the day."

The shadows in the sky were resolving themselves into coherent shapes now. Half a dozen warships, slim-bodied and stub-nosed, with sharply angled wings. The design looked familiar, but Lance didn't stop to puzzle it out as he vaulted into Red Lion's open jaws and took his seat in the cockpit. "Time to hunt some snakes!"

"Right." Black Lion raised its head. "Activate interlocks. Dynatherms connected. Infracells up. Megathrusters are go!"

"Let's go, Voltron Force!"

As the formation ended, the lake started churning again, and a very bloody and angry Bokar emerged from the water. "ENOUGH!" the monster roared, charging where the lions had been a moment ago, then pulling to a halt when he realized the lions weren't there.

"I'm going to enjoy this," Lance admitted as Voltron came swooping in from behind, landing a powerful kick to the serpent beast's chest just as he whirled around.

The mysterious fleet opened fire again as the giant went down, and Voltron backed off just to be safe. There didn't seem to be much point letting up _too_ much, though. "Princess, I think we need your weapon," Keith instructed.

"Got it. Form Tidal Trident!" The Tidal Trident wasn't nearly as powerful as the Blazing Sword, of course. But if their enemy didn't like water, he was probably going to _really_ dislike ice.

"Let's stop this guy cold."

* * *

><p>"...So you do know that was terribly lame, right chief?"<p>

Sighing, Keith resisted the urge to kill his friend's comms—with some difficulty. "I don't get as much practice as you do."

"Clearly." Despite the banter Lance was moving as well, pushing them forward, and the team fell in because frankly, they all pretty well trusted Red Lion's pilot to have Bokar-fighting down to a science. A burst of frost shot from the trident, coating the serpent beast's left arm in ice and drawing a shriek that was definitely as much anger as pain.

Another volley from the shadowy fleet followed up, sending Bokar stumbling forward, though it also melted the ice that had been encasing his arm. "This doesn't concern you," he hissed, glaring up at the ships. "This doesn't concern you at all! You are irrelevant! _Irrelevant!"_

As if in response, a particularly powerful plasma burst erupted from the lead ship and struck him squarely in the face.

"Yeah." Hunk chuckled. "That didn't look irrelevant."

"Shouldn't he be dead about twenty times over by now?" Pidge asked, sounding more than a little bit concerned. "I mean, he's not even a robeast. He's just a big snake. With legs. Which is silly, by the way, it makes the word 'snake' completely lose all meaning..."

"You _would_ think he should be dead," Keith agreed, ignoring the rest of the small pilot's musings. Pidge could really fixate sometimes. "But with the way his scales seem to reflect energy, we could be at this for awhile."

"Hmph. We could." Hunk sounded unconvinced. "Or we could stop using energy. We're kinda carryin' a ginormous trident, remember? Why haven't we tried stabbing him with this thing yet?"

Fair point, really. "Okay team, let's do this." Voltron charged forward, blocking Bokar's scythe with one end of the massive spear, then driving the prongs on the other end deep into his chest.

It really didn't do as much damage as it ought to have. "Oh, come _on_," Lance snarled. "What do we have to do?"

"Wait! I..." Allura trailed off, and Voltron nearly stumbled as they tried to dodge a blow while she was distracted. "I felt something when we hit him. Some sort of mystic energy. I wasn't detecting it earlier, but it's as if Voltron's enhancing my ability to—"

"—Allura, can you give us the relevant part now and talk like Pidge later?"

"Lance, I think the appropriate phrase here is 'bite me'."

"That's very rarely appropriate, squirt. But if you really want me to..."

"I'll pass. Allura, what were you saying?"

"Break his amulet," the princess answered, sounding perfectly composed, as if the other two pilots hadn't even interrupted her.

Until then, Keith hadn't thought much of the sphere hanging around Bokar's neck, swirling wildly with varying shades of red fog. Now that she mentioned it, though... as the serpent turned on the attacking ships and fired off a sorcerous blast, the commander could see the glow of the talisman intensify for a moment. No sense waiting; Voltron lunged, leveling the trident at the glowing orb, striking true but not managing to shatter it. Or even scratch it, really.

Got the target's attention, at least; there was a high, panicked tinge to his voice when he responded. "You're going to have to do better than that!" Swinging his scythe again he sent an arc of emerald light whirling toward them. Voltron sidestepped, but not cleanly; one of the knight's wings was nearly sheared off by the attack. "Clumsy metal paperweight."

Clumsy? Really? What the hell did he expect? Even with the psi link, a five-pilot machine could only be so graceful. Voltron wasn't built for ballet. It was a _giant robot_.

Guided by Lance, the trident leveled again, slamming into the talisman and driving Bokar back still further. "I usually kill anyone who calls me clumsy just on principle, and this guy had already earned it anyway. Can we get to it?"

"Working on it. Hitting the amulet doesn't seem to be breaking it, hadn't you noticed?"

"So hit it harder!"

"I've got a better idea," Pidge offered, and Green Lion took another shot with the trident as if to prove he could think and fight at the same time. "Thermal shock. Heat it up then freeze it, and it should break. Lance, Allura, can you do it?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"Should be able to."

Keith nodded his appreciation for the plan. It could work. But they would have to move quickly. "Okay then. All of you, with me." He banished the trident; it would just get in the way. "Brace yourselves..." Their enemy wasn't going to sit around and wait for them to make their move, in any case. "Wait for it..." Bokar was charging, scythe raised in a blow that would split Voltron cleanly in two. "Wait for it..." The serpentman was closing in.

Close enough.

"Now!"

Voltron's left arm lashed out first, Green Lion's jaws clamping down on Bokar's weapon and snapping the handle in half with a burst of laser fire. Red Lion drew back, as if preparing for a punch, but instead a concentrated stream of flame flared between the lion and the serpentman's amulet, until the crimson orb glowed fiercely with heat rather than power. Finally, planting the knight's left leg firmly on the ground, they swung into a vicious roundhouse kick that would easily have caved in the enemy's chest if it landed.

Bokar dodged the kick. He did not dodge the freezing water that erupted from Blue Lion's mouth, pouring over his chest, washing over the glowing sphere and shattering it utterly.

Keith didn't see the aftermath; Voltron was still following through from the kick. He was aware of a brilliant burst of light behind them, lighting up the shores of Lake Anahita like a crimson supernova. And when the full circle was completed, the monster was gone.

No, not gone... a motionless body was sprawled out in one of the giant beast's clawed footprints, scales pale and tinged with a red that wasn't blood. It was over.

"Such a waste," Keith sighed, being very careful to leave his comms off. Anything else he might have said was interrupted as the mysterious fleet approached, slowly and cautiously, most of the ships hovering well off to the side. What seemed to be the lead craft moved in closer, landing gently in the grass as Voltron turned to face it.

"Chief?"

"Don't move. At all."

Four figures emerged from the ship that had landed. Four vaguely humanoid figures that looked rather like cobras with legs, glittering scales ranging between green and brown and violet, eyes red and piercing.

"Um... okay, things just got weird," Pidge whispered.

"Really weird," Hunk agreed.

The apparent leader of the group stepped forward, approaching Voltron calmly and looking up at the robot. "So the rumors are true," he murmured in a soft, sibilant voice. "The true children of Sennec greet you, lion knight. You have our apologies for the mess."

Keith blinked. _Okay then_. "I think we're safe to detach. Just keep your wits about you."

As the lions split apart and the pilots dismounted, the serpent people looked on with expressions ranging from curiosity to awe. The leader's crimson eyes were sharp, taking in every detail as the team moved up to meet his group. "Warriors of the Alliance, greetings to you as well." He bowed his head respectfully. "I hope you're not offended by our interfering with your battle."

"Offended?" Allura repeated in disbelief. "How could we be offended? You saved all our lives, and you have our gratitude."

"Aiding others who stand against the Drule barbarians was our honor and pleasure." He gestured to the withered husk that had been a giant terror only minutes ago. "That traitor sold our world to Zarkon and his minions. When we detected his ship leaving the territory of the Ninth Kingdom, we couldn't pass up the opportunity to deliver justice."

"...A freaking _homing beacon_," Pidge groaned. Keith wasn't sure where that had come from, exactly, but Hunk gave his small friend a sympathetic look. Maybe it was best left to them.

He looked at the violet-scaled Sennecite, who'd glanced at the engineers with some curiosity but said nothing. "So... who are you?"

"Ah yes, my apologies. I am Prince Astika of Sennec." A low hiss. "Or New Sennec, if one wants to be technical. We'd have been here earlier, but our warp abilities have never centered on speed... though I do believe the firepower was sufficient."

Keith shot a sidelong glance at his second; Lance answered with a hint of a smirk. "Angry and vengeful and not a bizarre art show mannequin. I like him."

Chuckling, the commander returned his attention to the serpentman. "Your timing couldn't have been better."

"I daresay it _could_ have been." Astika made an odd gesture with his hood that was probably a shrug. "Better for that vermin not to have defiled your world with his presence. But results _are_ what matters."

"Will you stay for awhile?" Allura asked, all dutiful princess now. "The least we can do is offer you the hospitality of Arus."

"No, though we appreciate the offer. Our people have lived in fear of the traitor's return for too long as it is. We must bring the news back to them immediately, so our new world can truly begin to thrive." Astika bowed again and turned away. "But we'll not forget the might of Voltron or the kindness of Arus. In the future, if you have need, the Sennecites will stand at your side."

Watching the serpent people depart, Lance ran a hand through his hair and glanced over at his commander. "Didn't see that coming, either."

"No," Keith agreed. But he had an overpowering premonition, just for a moment.

_In the future, if you have need..._

"What're you thinking, chief?"

"I can't help thinking we're going to have to take them up on that offer someday."

* * *

><p>The Sennecite fleet was long gone before anyone even thought about moving. Keith was the first to turn away, heading back to Black Lion, muttering something about making sure the mice had finished clearing out the castle vents. Allura started to follow.<p>

Hunk decided he'd better catch her before she disappeared. "Princess, can I ask a favor?"

She halted. "What's on your mind?"

The big engineer hesitated for a long time, then sighed and motioned to the fallen Sennecite. "I wanna bury him. Even a murderous spy doesn't deserve to rot out in the open like that."

Of _course_ he'd been a murderous spy. They had to run into one of those sooner or later. And yet... this one's heart sure as hell hadn't been in it. Part of him wanted to take it as a personal failure. He was supposed to be the friendly one, after all. If only he'd done a little more maybe Bokar wouldn't have turned on them. But he knew it wasn't that simple.

No, the false prince had panicked. Feared the truth more than he feared even the lions. And in the end, Hunk fully believed Bokar had meant what he said about having faith in Voltron. He just hadn't had enough faith in _himself_.

There was nothing there to be mocked or hated, only pitied. Deeply.

Allura looked startled, but took only a few moments to nod her agreement. "Of course." He wasn't sure if she understood why, but she seemed to at least understand it was something he had to do... that was all he could ask for. "Do you need anything? I'm sure we have some shovels in the castle somewhere."

"Nah. I think the Yella Fella can handle the digging."

She nodded. "Okay. Go ahead." That was it. She didn't offer anything else, simply turning and boarding Blue Lion again. Not that he'd expected or wanted her to. This was just one of his own personal quirks showing, perhaps, and there was no need to drag anyone else into it.

Well, better get started... although he still wasn't alone.

He felt the questioning gaze long before looking down to meet it. His little buddy looked back up at him, the slightest frown of consternation playing on his face. "You're seriously burying the crazy snakeman that just tried to kill us?"

"That's the plan."

"What for? No offense, but it seems silly."

Hunk looked at his friend for a few more moments, deciding how far he really wanted to answer that. Pidge wasn't big on empathy as an abstract concept. He cared deeply for his friends, but outside that small sphere, all was met with indifference at best and hostility at worst. Given how he'd grown up it was hard to blame him for it, but the fact remained. To ask him to have sympathy for an enemy might be pushing it.

But this was still Pidge, and he would certainly never think so little of his friend to not even _attempt_ to explain. "You remember how I told you not everyone could be a hero?"

"Uh-huh."

He gestured to the fallen serpentman. "The Drules put him in a position where he had to be either a coward or a hero. You see how that went. But there's a big difference between being scared to death and being evil." Shrug. "I feel sorry for him. Least we can do is give him a half decent sendoff... let him rest."

Green eyes narrowed with uncertainty. "I don't think I buy that at all. There's gotta be _some_ lines you can't cross if you still expect to get sympathy." Well, it had been worth a try. "Anyway, mind if I pitch in?"

Blink. "How did we go from you thinking this is silly to you wanting to help?"

Pidge shrugged. "I do think it's silly. But it's important to _you_, and you shouldn't have to do it alone."

A roar on his right distracted them both for a moment; Red Lion was just now taking off. It at least gave him a few extra seconds to think, for all the good that did. He desperately wanted to accept Pidge's offer, because he knew so well that it hadn't been offered lightly. And yet... just for this small gesture, he needed to be alone with his thoughts.

"Thanks, little buddy." He gripped his friend's shoulder. Partly to express his appreciation, and partly to steel himself, because he wasn't sure he'd ever _rejected_ his friend's deigning to get warm and fuzzy on him before. "But honestly I've got this myself. I mean, I appreciate you wantin' to help and all, but it's just that I'm a little more comfortable keeping this to myself..."

Every once in awhile, something would flicker in Pidge's eyes. A crystalline glimmer where it seemed like he knew everything, where his usually blunt social skills sharpened into a blade that could cut straight into the soul. It was there now as he reached up and brushed a tear from Hunk's cheek that had not been falling.

Not yet.

"Cut it out, Hunk. You don't have to justify wanting to be alone. _Especially_ not to me." He grinned and it was so understanding, so genuine. "Do what you have to do." He turned away, trotting back to Green Lion without another word.

..._You know, I really thought I was past underestimating you, little buddy_. _Always gotta have one more surprise up your sleeve, don'tcha?_

Though he wouldn't be entirely alone, even so. He patted Yellow Lion's jaw as he climbed into the cockpit. "_You_ at least understand, don't you, big guy?" An immediate sense of agreement flooded his mind, and he smiled, only a little sadly. "Knew you would. C'mon... let's give him back to the earth."

* * *

><p>Dinner was an uncomfortably quiet affair, in the formal dining room, served on paper plates. The specter of their recently-departed guest was hanging heavily over the castle, and even Nanny seemed oddly subdued. Or at least, she didn't say a word about the plates.<p>

After that, the team went their separate ways. They'd had quite enough training for one day, after all. Time for a break. Keith decided to do some reading, but had barely even made it to his room when someone knocked on the door. "It's open."

"No it's not. I'm staring right at it, it's closed."

Sigh. "It's unlocked, Lance, stop being literal and get in here."

His friend's gaze must have been focused on him right through the door; it was the only explanation for how quickly those deep brown eyes speared through him. This was going to be a serious conversation, and Lance _did not_ initiate serious conversations. If he did, something was terribly wrong. "What's up?"

"I told you so."

Well, of course it wouldn't be that simple. "Yes, so you mentioned."

"Oh surely you don't think I'm only going to gloat _once_." His friend pushed past him and flopped out on his bed. "You got some time?"

"Yes. Except you're on my bed again."

Lance ignored him. But his expression had gone pensive. "This was so much easier when they were all monsters, you know?"

_Oh, so that's where this is going. ...Wait, _that's_ where this is going?_ They hadn't seen an actual Drule for over a week. "What brought this on? Delayed reaction from Admiral Yurak?"

"Nah. Yes and no, I mean. He started it. Then I stuck around outside long enough to hear Hunk explaining to Pidge why he needed to bury the snake." Sigh. "It made a lot more sense than I would've liked it to."

Keith arched an eyebrow. He had a fair idea of Hunk's reasoning himself, but... "Forgive me for a quick diversion here, but how'd Pidge take that?"

"Cluelessly."

About as he'd expected. The little engineer might be able to grasp the subtlest nuances of programming and technology, but his view of morality was pretty much limited to black, white, and a single point of gray directly in between. "So tell me about it."

"Just... it got me thinking. About how people choose between being heroes and cowards. For a second out there when the Sennecite fleet showed up, god, Keith, it scared the hell out of me! All this time and still... you get me on the ground during a bombardment and I freak!" He shook his head. "Makes me wonder how little would've had to change... to put me in a place where I'd be a coward instead of a hero."

"You don't have enough sense of self-preservation to be a coward, Lance. But I'm glad to see you learning some empathy."

That old familiar blaze erupted in the other warrior's voice. "Dude. _Don't_ patronize me. I'll rip your eyeballs out through your spleen."

"I don't think that's physically possible." Keith leaned back against the wall. "What do you want from me, Lance? If you need someone to tell you they're still monsters, Pidge or Allura are probably your best bet. Not me."

"If I get desperate I'll do that. Tell me how _you_ manage." He didn't even take the opening regarding Allura, which told Keith a great deal. Of course, the fact that he'd come barging in here of his own volition said most of it already.

Actually answering the question wasn't so simple, but he could try... "By not seeing the world as good or evil."

"That doesn't make any sense at all."

"Think about it. The average Drule is just like the average human... they live and work and care for their families and fulfill their duties. And you want to kill them all. You have your reasons, but they don't know that. They don't care. To them _you're_ a monster and that's all—"

"—_Stop_, Keith!" Lance jumped up, all his muscles rippling with tension. "Stop it. Don't do this to me. You're supposed to be helping! If there's all this damned moral equivalence why do we bother to fight at all? Let's just sit down and hold hands and forget all the people they've murdered and everything'll be perfect!"

Keith looked into his friend's burning eyes and nodded once. Perhaps he'd gone a little too far there; he had no desire to kill Lance's fighting spirit. Or any other part of his spirit. "I didn't mean it that way. I'm pretty sure I know a lot more about Drule culture than you do, so trust me, I _know_ it's not so simple. So long as they think non-Drules are lesser beings, there isn't going to be any peace."

"Then why get me feeling all weird about it?"

"Because you asked how I manage, and I'm trying to tell you." Sigh. He wasn't sure he could find the words, not without sounding callous. Not that Lance was likely to mind that. "Because... they don't _have_ to be monsters. They have their reasons, just like we do. But in the end their reasons don't matter that much. They're hellbent on killing us, so we kill them first. If the politicians find a way to change the nature of things, so much the better. Until then, there's no sense feeling guilty about fighting."

His friend thought about this, crossing his arms and frowning. Then he shook his head. "It was still so much easier when they were all monsters."

"Being a soldier should never be easy."

"Sure it should." But he didn't sound like he believed that himself.

And maybe he had a point, though probably not the point he thought he was making. "Maybe. But _killing_ should never be easy."

That won him a long pause and a sigh. "I've heard that before." Lance walked over to the door. "I may just go talk to Allura after all. Tell her that our fearless leader really wanted me to go have a heart to heart with her—"

"—I'm glad you're feeling better, Lance."

The other pilot flashed him a cocky grin. "Aww, thanks, Keith. I always feel better after being in your bed."

It was a damned good thing he'd made his way to the door already, or he probably wouldn't have escaped the room alive. The heavy strategy book Keith had been planning to read slammed against the door with enough force to shake the frame, and he could hear the hysterical laughter ringing out on the other side.

"I'm going to kill you someday, Lance!"

"Probably. And I bet it'll be super easy."

"You're damned right it will."

He was pretty sure he could hear laughter echoing down the hallway for the next half hour.

* * *

><p>His new patient had no concept of taking things slowly. None!<p>

A sanahar only treated one patient at a time; after all, their current assignment deserved and required their full attention. Kylos was quite new to the art. But neither of his previous patients had been so terribly... what was the word? _Obstinate_.

Usually people understood that just because they were theoretically capable of something, that didn't mean doing it was a good idea. Not Sven. And it didn't seem to change no matter how many times he was told.

He was standing now, going through what appeared to be some sort of calisthenics. A rather slow and abbreviated version of such exercises, anyway. Kylos stood in the doorway silently, part of him wanting to tell his patient to lie back down and be more careful, part of him not wanting to disrupt the human's concentration. And part of him fascinated... the motions had to be excruciating.

He'd probably been there for thirty seconds when Sven snapped, gruffly, "Would you stop staring at me?"

Kylos winced. "I am sorry. I'd hoped not to distract you."

Sven pointed to something on the wall; a glassed-in case holding medical charts. Uncertain of the significance, Kylos waited, and after some time was rewarded with an explanation. "Your reflection."

"Ah, I see." _I am woefully unprepared to treat a warrior. _His mind was tuned to observations of the body and soul, not physical surroundings. "If I do not stare, may I remain with you for a time?"

"You'll do what you like, I imagine."

That wasn't terribly inviting, but it was probably accurate. Duty would demand that he remain, in case something went wrong, which seemed to not only be possible, but quite probable...

He'd barely finished the thought when Sven collapsed.

There were no thoughts of vindication. An _I told you so_ might play into it later, but for right now he was a sanahar and his patient needed aid, and he rushed forward with no concerns in his mind beyond offering that aid and—

"Don't touch me!" the human snarled, startling Kylos enough that he jumped back.

"But—"

"Don't touch me," Sven repeated. His voice and eyes had gone deadly cold, a frozen shroud that would have rooted Kylos in place if he hadn't been trained to resist spiritual forces. But he _was_ trained to deal with such things. It still made him flinch; was this normal for humans? Psychic races were one thing, but untrained mystics weren't supposed to be like this at all.

Whatever the case, backing off seemed like the wisest course of action.

Slowly—agonizingly slowly—the human shifted, got his feet under him, and used the bed to pull himself into a standing position. He was not at all steady. And yet he was silent. Refusing to let the pain he had to be feeling show, even for a moment. Kylos watched, silent himself, waiting. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for, exactly, but knew something had to give.

Strength. Stubbornness. Humans tended to conflate the two concepts. It was not his place to pass judgment, but right now he wished neither of them were so highly valued. The watching was painful.

Finally Sven fully straightened, glaring as if he dared Kylos to say anything about it. "I will rest now," he said coldly, but in a way that made it clear he was not dictating—he was acquiescing to the suggestion that he knew was about to be voiced.

"That's wise."

A scowl as the human laid back out on the bed. "Still doesn't mean you need to stare at me."

Kylos averted his gaze, looking back at the glass where his patient had first seen his reflection. "I cannot help thinking I've not done anything to deserve your hostility."

"This is not _hostility_. If I get _hostile_, you will not be sticking around to ask about it."

Now that he mentioned it, Kylos did fully believe that to be the case. "Then you are always this... disagreeable?"

Scowl. "_You_ try going to sleep thinking you're dead and waking up on a planet you've never heard of. Alone. We'll see how agreeable you are."

Excellent point. Mostly. "You are not alone here, and need not be so burdened. Are you still certain you do not wish to speak of what brought you here?"

Those void-black eyes sought him out, drawing him in. "If you really want to help me, stop asking me that, Kylos." It was the first time he'd used the sanahar's name; it was hard to tell if that was a good sign or not. "Stop reminding me that something brought me here, that someone sent me here. I'm here. I see no reason to deal with anything further than that."

"Very well." It wasn't such an unreasonable request, he decided. Sometimes it was best to leave the patient to their shadows.

For now.


	10. Line in the Sand

**Arusian Crusade: Changing Tides**  
>Chapter 9: Line in the Sand<p>

_This is super late, I'm sorry! I have no excuses. Just combat scenes getting in the way of my character drama. Pfft.  
><em>_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>The serpent had failed, as expected. Zarkon couldn't make himself be more than slightly irritated by that fact; on the one hand, the spy had managed to die without taking a single one of the Voltron pilots with him. On the other hand, he was out of the king's hair now.<p>

It evened out.

He had more important things to worry about, besides. He'd spent the last few days going over the potential candidates to become the Ninth Kingdom's new admiral. And there were so many candidates... so many fine commanders who might follow in the footsteps of the fallen warrior, the warrior who had been legendary before his body was cold.

Yurak Lionbane, the one who'd faced Voltron as an equal.

Traditionally, Drule culture did not look highly upon martyrs. The idea wasn't to _die_ for your kingdom, it was to conquer and kill the kingdom's enemies. But traditionally Drules weren't called upon to fight demons straight out of ancient mythology, either. Unique circumstances called for unique tactics, and Yurak had certainly succeeded in that. What was left of his fleet was ready to fight now, and they wouldn't stop until the fragments of Voltron were scattered to the winds. All they needed was a new commanding officer... martyrs, no matter how heroic and successful, did still have the small inconvenience of being dead.

Zarkon was sitting in his study now, scowling at the personnel files. All the candidates were skilled and accomplished, yet they were all so... _conventional_. He tried to imagine them facing down this enemy unlike any other, and couldn't foresee a lot of success.

"Father."

He sighed and pushed the data crystals across his desk. "How did you get in here unannounced, Lotor? I'll be upset if I have to have my guards beheaded."

The prince chuckled as he entered the study. "Not to worry, Father. I'm sure they'll only fall for the obscure protocol exemptions trick once, especially once you've reamed them for it. But I'm wounded. You surely don't expect me to come in here and stab you in the back, do you?"

No, he didn't. Though that _was_ precisely what he'd done to his own father, when that madman had come too close to bringing the whole Ninth Kingdom down around his shoulders to sate his insanity. Which was... not uncommon for this kingdom's rulers, really. Sanity did not run strong in his bloodline; Zarkon was sharply aware of that fact, but he aimed to break with tradition.

As for his son, there were few mysteries there. "I expect I know what you're actually here for, and I might find the assassination attempt preferable."

Lotor gave a low growl. "Come now. If you had someone else in mind for the Arus assignment, you'd have promoted them already. And I know your other commanders are hardly breaking down the doors to ask for the job."

_Which of those idiot courtiers told him that?_ It was true, of course, but... "You are still a _student_, remember? Royalty or no, you must earn your place. There is no possible excuse which could justify promoting you to admiral."

"Of course not. But I'm not the least bit concerned with being admiral, Father. I only want to fight Voltron!"

_Well, at least he has some grip on reality_. That was a more practical approach than he'd expected. Still. "Lotor, you are my sole heir and my only son. This is the single most dangerous mission available at this moment. I would be remiss in my _duty_ to the kingdom if I gave it to you—or have you forgotten that duty plays into this?"

Lotor's eyes glowed and he slammed a fist against the door frame. "I'm quite well aware of that, and I wonder how you expect me to ever take the throne if all you let me do is lounge around in classrooms and cower behind easy missions? I must fight and prove my worth, the same as you did!"

Zarkon barely kept himself from flinching. Somehow he hadn't expected Lotor to spring that particular point on him—perhaps because he'd expected he would see the differences. After all, Zarkon had had two sisters who could have taken over if he'd fallen in combat. Not to mention that insane father, who certainly hadn't been thinking about continuity of government when he'd thrown his fleets around.

That said, the point was not completely invalid... and it irked him that he hadn't seen it coming. "I've half a mind to order you back to Straton."

"You wouldn't."

Sigh. "No, I won't." He shot Lotor a look of genuine displeasure. "I am giving you the acting rank of Commander, and you will take control of the _Death Defiant _and its fleet. Your mission profile is no more or less than the destruction of Voltron. This assignment is provisional; I'm going to be keeping a close eye on things. If I don't like what I see, you will be back on Straton before you know what hit you. Understand?"

Smiling broadly enough to fully bare his fangs, Lotor gave a deep bow and took two steps back, through the doorway. "I understand completely, Father. I will make you proud."

_We'll see about that_. "Save your promises, Lotor. Bring me results."

* * *

><p>The idea of someone new taking over the <em>Death Defiant<em> was grating. Lirik contemplated this fact as she put the dreadnought's crew through afternoon drills, surprised to find herself thinking that way. It wasn't her nature to be so sentimental... but she didn't think it was just concern over her own potential reassignment, either.

Although that certainly played into it.

Technically, her rank was Master Sergeant In Attendance; she served as chief aide to a fleet commander, and her posting was on this ship. In practice, commanders often brought their trusted aides with them when they were reassigned. When a new admiral was appointed and took over the _Death Defiant_, there was a better than even chance Lirik would find herself shuffled elsewhere. Probably serving some new commander who hadn't built their own crew yet.

Such was life. Her experience would be most valuable for such an assignment, and it was her duty to give aid wherever her presence was required. If she _were_ reassigned, she should take pride in the new task.

But Voltron would still stand. And she wouldn't even be able to avenge Admiral Yurak, who'd plucked her from the ranks and cultivated her talents, who'd treated his underlings as equals and allies rather than tools to be used. Others would fulfill that mission.

Unacceptable.

Unavoidable.

Sighing, she focused on Snuff, who was certainly not doing any of this soul-searching. The helmsman would probably remain on the _Death Defiant_ until either he or it crumbled from age. "That ought to be sufficient."

He pressed a few buttons and the bridge went dark, the simulation over. "Still lookin' pretty good out there, but it's a wonder we ain't had a total chaotic melee yet. Our gunners are itchy, so're the rest of 'em. If His Highness keeps us on Korrinoth much longer, people're gonna snap." He snapped his fingers loud enough to cause a few inattentive crew members to jump.

"Indeed. But we're going to be here for some time yet, I expect."

"Yeah, I know. Politics. Silly. Maybe we oughta have a few sim brawls, forget the maneuvers and just shoot each other up a bit. Let some steam off, y'know?"

Lirik cocked her head. "Not a bad thought." She enjoyed hearing the helmsman talk. He came from Masillon, a rough frontier world on the far side of the galaxy, and still displayed most of the irreverence common to such distant planets. His words were coarse, but the accent was almost songlike and the ideas were never without merit. "Perhaps we'll do that tomorrow."

"We've got incoming," one of the sensor techs called out. Which was patently ridiculous, considering the simulation was over. When most of the bridge crew whirled to give her odd looks, a dark blush spread over the speaker's cheeks. "Apologies, I mean incoming on the ground. I'm opening the front boarding ramp."

_Oh_. Checking a nearby monitor, Lirik saw what was going on; Prince Lotor was briskly approaching the dreadnought. _Interesting_. They hadn't seen the prince since Yurak's funeral. Given the way the war was escalating throughout the Denubian, she'd assumed he had been reassigned already.

It took him a few more minutes to reach the bridge, and he immediately sought her out to nod a greeting. "Master Sergeant, always a pleasure." He gave a brief nod to Grayl, clearly for personal reasons rather than protocol, then returned his focus to Lirik. "I'll be direct. I've been given provisional command of this ship and its fleet. Rather than being the admiral's personal command, you are now part of the task force dedicated to the defeat of Voltron."

..._Surely not._

In theory it was a terrible demotion. Serving under the Prince Imperial was an honor, but he was largely untested in combat, and certainly the status as a mere task force was a far cry from being the personal guard of the Ninth Kingdom's highest officer. But...

They would still face Voltron.

Nothing else really mattered, did it?

She bowed to their new commander. "We are at your service, my lord."

"'Sir' will do." He crossed his arms. "Is the fleet ready to move out?"

_He moves fast_. "Not in the least, sir."

"Any of it?"

Lirik frowned, wondering where this was going, but presumably if she answered the question she would find out. "Most of the fleet is undergoing deep maintenance; as you know, it's been some time since we had that opportunity. The _Death Defiant_ itself is complete, as are the _Intransigent_ and the _Pride of Ralimar_—both destroyers," she explained quickly when Lotor looked to be searching for the names. It was his fleet now, but one could hardly expect him to have memorized the ships yet. "I believe the _Six-Winged Shrike_, which is a cruiser, will be up to speed within the next two days."

He shook his head. "No need for that. What we have now will be enough. We simply need transport and some firepower as a deterrence; the ships ought not be in danger." Frown. "Before we throw our full might at Voltron, I wish to know the extent of the humans' honor... we will go to Arus, and give them a challenge no worthy foe would refuse. We will learn a great deal from their response."

Snuff's eyes flickered in the dimness. "All due respect, Highness, ain't that puttin' the ships in danger?"

"Not at all. I intend to challenge their commander on the ground."

That was the moment Lirik realized all the rumors about Lotor were not just rumors. He really _was_ idealistic to the point of madness. Or perhaps to the point of being most admirable... many Drule warriors gave lip service to the old ways, but very few seemed to take them to heart anymore.

The prince looked over the bridge, taking in the concerned expressions from the crew. His crew, now. After a few moments of silence he frowned. "I hope that you will all be bold enough to offer your honest advice, as you were with Admiral Yurak before me. If this plan is without merit, say so."

Lirik considered that. It was highly unorthodox... but who was she to argue with that? Yurak hadn't earned the name Lionbane by thinking conventionally. And he was right, the humans _had_ shown some capacity for honor. Maybe the prince wasn't so far off base. Maybe he would be a worthy successor after all, and bring them the vengeance and victory they craved.

Suddenly she felt eyes on her. After all, she'd been the one guiding the _Death Defiant_ in the absence of a new commander. If she expressed doubts, they would trickle down. If she expressed confidence, though, they would follow. This moment would set the tone of their mission... she drew her fist to her chest, saluting with no further hesitation. "Lead and we will follow, Prince Lotor."

He returned the salute, but she could see him fighting down the faintest hint of a smile. "Then we move. Now!"

* * *

><p>Things were speeding up. It seemed like they'd barely had time to recover from Bokar—hell, Nanny hadn't even finished digging out the backup china. And suddenly the alarms were sounding again, a new Drule fleet had been sighted, and Keith hadn't even finished his morning coffee.<p>

"I liked it better when we were waiting for the hammer to drop," Lance muttered as the team gathered in the control room.

"I never thought I'd hear you complain about killing Drules."

"See, chief, it's like anything else. More enjoyable after a good breakfast." He was still nibbling on a piece of toast as Coran pulled up the monitors. "So what's the story?"

"They've jumped into low orbit over the western mountains. Only three ships, that's odd... ah." The advisor frowned and looked up. "We're being hailed by the_ Death Defiant_."

It had been quite some time since the Drules wanted to talk before shooting. It might be a good sign... they could hope, anyway. "I'll take it." Settling into the command chair, Keith hit the blinking icon which indicated an incoming transmission. "Voltron Force responding. This is Commander Kogane."

"Good morning, Commander." He recognized the low voice immediately. "I am Lotor, Prince Imperial of the Ninth Kingdom; I believe we've spoken before. Your honor has been noticed by the Supremacy, and I now challenge that honor. I invite you to a duel. You will choose a neutral location, and I will set the terms. Come alone. My fleet will not intervene, nor may your lions."

_A duel? The Prince Imperial is challenging a lowly human to a duel? _Keith drew back, startled, and shot a glare at his team to call for silence. Most of them looked as shocked as he felt. "Hand to hand, then?"

"Indeed. Bring your melee weapon of choice." A brief pause. "You are within your rights to refuse this challenge, Commander. We will depart, and know you for a coward—and proceed accordingly. Accept, and you will be respected as an enemy of courage and honor. However... should you attempt to take advantage of us, know that we will return dishonor with dishonor. My fleet is currently positioned over the largest settlement we have detected on this world. Slaughtering innocent civilians out of spite would be dishonorable indeed."

A chill cloaked the control room with those last words. "He _wouldn't_," Lance snarled.

"Quiet, Lance." There was no sense pointing out that Lotor most certainly _would_ carry out the threat; he knew his friend was speaking out of anger rather than thought.

A chuckle came over the comms. "Ah, but of course, you have your companions to consider. The Drule Supremacy is generous; I will give you fifteen minutes to make your decision."

Keith nodded though there was no video link, and cut off the comms, leaving the chair and pacing around it. His mind was made up. "I'll accept, of course. We've taken inventory in the armory, haven't we? I'm going to need a couple of swords." He kept his tone calm, matter of fact, hoping to display that he wasn't going to accept any argument.

Not that that really ever stopped anyone.

"Keith, you can't be serious!" The only surprise about the objection was that Allura beat Lance to the punch. "You're not really going to go out there and fight that monster alone, are you?"

"Monster might be a bit strong—"

"—Don't start that." Her eyes flashed with blue-hot venom. "He talks about how dishonorable it would be to kill innocent civilians, but look what the Drules did to this planet! You can't possibly believe he means what he says."

This probably wasn't the time to try to explain the nuances of Drule culture; an attack of conquest was seen as something rather different than killing out of spite, but the princess wasn't likely to find that a convincing argument. Besides, Keith wasn't in the mood to defend logic he himself disagreed with. "I believe him, and I'm going to fight him. Do you understand the alternative? If we're branded as cowards, that puts us somewhere below animals in the Supremacy's eyes. Things will get a lot worse."

"Well you're sure as all the hells not going alone," Lance growled.

"Of course I am. Unless we want that settlement reduced to ash."

"At least let _me_ come with you, he'll never see—"

"_No_, Pidge." Keith crossed his arms and looked over his team. "For the last time, no. Listen, he's not going to double cross me. Drules value honor too highly. A rank and file warrior, maybe it'd be more of a threat, but he's a prince—the Prince Imperial, no less. If word got out he had to cheat in a duel against a human, he wouldn't be able to show his face for a year."

"Are we sure he's a prince?" Hunk asked, sounding casual, though there was a faint shadow in his eyes that Keith would've called bitterness in anyone else. The big engineer was still kicking himself a bit over the last 'prince' they'd encountered.

It wasn't a bad question, anyway, and the commander nodded. "Yes, I've heard of Prince Lotor. The Alliance doesn't know much about him, but he was supposedly off Doom studying when we deployed; I'd imagine he's been recalled to help deal with the war."

Lance arched a challenging eyebrow. "And are you sure you aren't putting a little too much stake in this Drule honor thing? I mean, you told us robeasts were always lobotomized aliens, too."

..._Fair point_. He sighed. If the challenge was legitimate, breaking the deal would have terrible repercussions. If it was a trap, he would likely end up dead. Balance. There had to be a balance.

"Okay. Here's the plan. I'll keep my comms open." He stopped pacing and held up his wristcomp to emphasize the point. "I'll fight him along the beach, it's far enough away to be neutral. Blue Lion should be able to move down the river and into the ocean without being detected, and can be in position to back me up if necessary."

His second didn't look too happy with the arrangement. "And the rest of us are supposed to do what, exactly? Sit around listening to the inevitable disaster?"

"I appreciate your confidence, Lance. No. Here, look." He pulled up a map of the coastline and pointed to what the outdated display still believed was a city. "Allura, the ruins are still abandoned here, correct?"

The princess nodded. "So far the rebuilding is centered around the mountains, not the coast." Of course he'd really known that already. They all knew it. Including the Drules, apparently. "We've had salvage teams in there, they report the remaining structures are at least mostly stable."

"Excellent. The rest of you, hide in there. Don't even think about making a move unless Lotor moves first." He swept his best glare over the team, making sure they understood he meant business. "If we break this deal, they _will_ raze that settlement before we can do anything about it, and you know it. So don't give them any excuses."

"Chief, I know this might be hard to believe." Hunk crossed his arms and gave him a moderately insulted look. "But we actually _don't_ just sit around waitin' to break all your orders for giggles. I mean, most of us don't. Maybe Lance, but that's all."

"Thanks, big guy."

"Any time."

Keith couldn't suppress a brief chuckle. "Okay, fair enough. Just be careful..." He paused a moment as something new occurred to him. He had to actually get to the coast at some point. Launching Black Lion was out of the question, but walking to the battle site would take far too long, not to mention leaving him in poor shape for a duel. "Um. Do we have some kind of shuttle around here?"

A wince from the princess. "No. No, we don't... the two we've managed to repair are both delivering supplies to the settlements."

"Take Bokar's ship," Pidge suggested. "We'll pile in the cargo hold and sneak out into the ruins after you land."

Not a bad solution. It would also be seen as a calculated insult; the traitor's craft had been the property of the Ninth Kingdom, after all. It would irritate the prince, perhaps throw him off balance. He nodded. "Okay. Everyone, _quiet_." His gaze lingered on Lance briefly, then he returned to the console. "Prince Lotor? Commander Kogane. I accept your invitation, and am sending my chosen location. I'll be arriving in a light Sennecite transport."

Was he mistaken, or had he heard a faint snarl when he announced the ship he'd be bringing? "Very well, Commander. I look forward to our battle. Lotor out."

* * *

><p>Lotor's shuttle was the first to reach the chosen site; he'd expected as much. He found the location quite reasonable, actually a bit closer to his fleet than to the Arusian castle. As his shuttle came down, he studied the beach and sought out any potential ambush locations. There were ruins in the distance, and a rock formation along the river at his back, but all in all visibility was good.<p>

Nodding his satisfaction, he picked up a rock and drew a wide circle with it in the sand. And then he waited.

About two minutes later, a low whine echoed over the beach, and a narrow-winged transport craft threw its shadow over the sand. Lotor scowled. He knew perfectly well how the humans had acquired such a ship... and really, it was unworthy to be so annoyed. They'd won it from its previous pilot quite fairly.

Still, he was looking forward to landing a few extra blows for the insult.

A dark form vaulted from the ship's cockpit. For an instant, he thought he also saw a shadow move at the rear of the transport, but it was gone a moment later and he decided it must have been a trick of the light. Arus was such a bright planet. So unlike the constant overcast of Korrinoth or the far-distant, nearly invisible sun of Straton. Looking at the burning orb in the sky, he wondered if he should've waited until nightfall. Hopefully the brightness wouldn't prove distracting.

Hindsight was what it was.

Turning his attention back to the ground, Lotor studied his foe carefully. He'd never actually seen a human in person before; the upstart apes had so rarely interfered in Denubian affairs until now. Even with the images sent by the fallen spy, he had rather expected something smaller and filthier... the enemy commander was nearly as tall and muscular as the prince himself, and that surprised him.

It also pleased him. Perhaps this would be a good fight after all.

He bowed. "Commander Kogane."

The human returned the gesture warily. "Prince Lotor."

Gesturing to the circle around them, Lotor drew his sword. "I'd prefer a fight to the death, but I suspect you'd be averse to accepting it, and my father would be most annoyed with me. We _do_ both have politics to worry about. So we will set this line as our boundary, and whoever steps outside it will lose the fight. Acceptable?"

Kogane considered this for a moment, drawing his weapons as well. Two blades, shorter and broader than the laser blade Lotor wielded. "Acceptable enough. What are your terms?"

"If you win, I will return a hundred slaves taken from this world." He had, in fact, traced one hundred Arusian slaves just in case—women and children, of course. Weaker laborers. Humans seemed to consider women and children more important to protect, so it was really an ideal arrangement. "If I win, you will hand over Princess Allura."

That got him a frown, and he was certain a reflexive refusal nearly followed it. Then the icy blue eyes lit with something very close to amusement. "I couldn't promise the princess if I wanted to, Prince Lotor. You assume she'd come quietly, and that's not a very safe bet."

_Of course._ He liked hearing that. To be piloting a lion, he'd known the lovely princess must have spirit; the commander's words confirmed it. "Then if you lose, I shall take her."

A few more moments of consideration, then the human removed a device from his wrist and tossed it outside of the circle. "Just a computer," he explained when the prince arched an eyebrow. "It would get in my way, and surely you want the best fight possible?"

_A competitive soul. Good_. Nodding, Lotor saluted with his blade. "We shall see if your skill matches your courage, human. Prepare yourself!"

"I'm ready."

Niceties were done; no need for any more discussion. He sprang.

* * *

><p>Keith recognized his opponent's style of swordsmanship from the first moment: Gar Strasis, the Art of the Predator. It was pretty easy to identify, all told... it was a no-nonsense style of relentless advances and brutal, stabbing strikes. Defense was a minor consideration, because the idea was to keep the opponent on their heels, and for Lotor's first few attacks it worked precisely as advertised. Keith had no choice but to give ground as his opponent bore down on him, blade flashing with such swiftness that even a graze would be crippling.<p>

Sure, this wasn't _technically_ a fight to the death. He could always flee the circle. But a mortal wound would be mortal no matter what the terms, and he certainly hadn't been expecting the prince to pull any punches.

Nor did he intend to do so himself.

The greatest strength of Gar Strasis was in fact its most glaring weakness. Every ounce of the swordsman's power went into the blows; the strikes were suicidal to try to block and devastating when they struck true, yet fast enough that a miss didn't leave any significant openings to exploit. But it left the wielder quite unbalanced. So long as they controlled the direction of combat, that was of no concern—but losing that control threw it all off.

The second problem wasn't really the technique's fault at all. Drules simply had a tendency for tunnel vision.

Lotor was exceptionally skilled; his dance was intoxicating, drawing Keith into closer and closer dodges, forcing him steadily back toward the boundary. If one focused on Keith's weapons, the prince was clearly winning their fight.

Weapons weren't everything.

He was playing along intentionally, letting his opponent believe he was falling into the rhythm. But he was biding his own time. And just when it seemed like he'd run out of room to maneuver, that he would have to either fling himself from the circle or let the blade pierce his chest, he made his move.

Lotor lunged, eyes lighting with triumph, and Keith twisted under the driving strike and slide-tackled the Drule's legs right out from under him. The prince went down with a startled yelp, jumping up just short of the boundary as Keith returned to the middle of the circle. "Clever, human." No hesitation. He charged again.

It took Keith a moment to realize his opponent had switched tactics—expecting another stab, he nearly failed to parry the slash which would have ripped right across his chest. As it was his block was clumsy, leaving no possibility of a counterattack, and he pulled back to seek out another opening.

The prince backed off as well, taking a wide stance and holding his blade level with the ground. A new form, without doubt... Gar Rusoros, the Art of the Defender. Despite himself, Keith was impressed. The two styles were pretty much as different as it was possible to be—to slip so seamlessly from one mindset to the other was no small accomplishment.

Of course, that assumed Lotor had actually transitioned mentally. _Let's test your defenses_. This time he sprinted forward, giving no quarter himself, both blades flashing even faster than the prince's predatory strikes.

No openings.

"Not bad," he admitted quietly, switching tactics and falling into a more defensive stance himself. In most cases Keith preferred to be defensive, to let the opponent make the mistakes and focus only on the counterstrikes. But after what he'd seen so far, he wasn't too sure he count count on Lotor making mistakes. Matter of fact he was quite certain he couldn't.

And then, he switched arts again. Drules only had three major sword techniques—their cultural emphasis was on discipline and perfection, not creativity. This was the most complicated, the most dangerous... Gar Kotsar, the Art of the Gods. A very aptly named sword style, one which wove ghostly illusions in with its vicious strikes. His first attack was nearly invisible in the morning sun, as the glow of his blade reflected the light and left afterimages seared into Keith's vision.

He blocked, but not completely; a burning gash opened up in his arm, and he'd never even seen the sword connect.

_That's it. This has to end now._

He was only going to get one shot at this, and if he botched it heads would roll. His head, in any case. Darting in with his blades raised, he blocked the next strike directly. The laser sword carved through his weapons easily, but it was clear his opponent hadn't expected to actually land the blow—as the metal yielded, Lotor stumbled, momentarily off balance again.

Keith dropped the broken hilts and grabbed for an arm. _Got you! _Whirling around, he threw the prince with all his strength, hard enough that he fell to his own knees as his victim went tumbling from the circle.

Lotor was on his feet quickly; it took him a moment to realize what had just happened. Looking down at Keith, still crouched on the ground, his eyes widened for a moment. Were it not for the brilliant sunlight, they would certainly have been visibly glowing. Then the prince laughed. "Well played, Commander Kogane. Well played indeed. But your own control leaves something to be desired."

..._Don't tell me_. He knew what he was going to see before he even bothered to look. And sure enough, when he lowered his eyes, he saw one knee had come to rest just beyond the boundary of the circle.

Human logic would say that Lotor had exited first, that Keith was barely out of bounds, and after all, it had been his maneuver in the first place. Human logic would be to grant Keith victory because it just made so much sense that way. Drule logic didn't work like that. In fact, an argument _could_ be made that his tactic backfiring on him made him the loser...

Better to head that off. "Looks like a draw."

"So it appears." Lotor sheathed his sword and nodded. "I do not impress easily, Commander. But I am... intrigued. We will depart for—"

Before he could finish the sentence, the howl of a Drule warship engine rang through the sky, washing over the beach from the mountains. One of the destroyers had broken ranks, flame erupting from its weapon ports as it bore down on the settlement.

_Goddammit!_

Keith glanced back in time to see Lance charging from the ruins. His second drew his pistols, taking a single shot that went high as Lotor threw himself to the ground. He was screaming, presumably at an active comm crystal, though the words weren't audible; it should be no surprise that he'd taken his own precautions. More than precautions.

_Double-crossing bastard._

Kneeling and grabbing his wristcomp, the commander looked up just in time to see the ocean rippling off to his left. Blue Lion erupted from the water, turning on Lotor and firing several ion darts in his direction, but the lions weren't really designed to attack such small targets. The shots impacted harmlessly in the sand around the prince.

"Just get that destroyer, Allura."

"On it."

He regretted the order as soon as he gave it. Targeting problems would only have saved the prince for so long, and getting rid of him would have been a huge victory. But he shook it off; they were here to defend the people, and that had to come first.

Suddenly Pidge appeared in _front_ of Lotor. Keith had no idea how he'd gotten there, but was reasonably certain it meant the young warrior hadn't been hiding in the ruins at all, and he was going to get a nice lecture on following orders later... but first they all had to live through this, which might be easier said than done.

In fairness, it certainly hadn't been Pidge's hiding place that had set all this off.

Lotor pulled to a halt, clearly startled by the small form that had appeared in front of him. In truth he wasn't all that far away, but as Blue Lion screamed through the sky and opened fire on its target, the noise drowned out anything the prince might have said. All Keith could be certain of was that if Lotor _had_ said anything, the young warrior didn't respond. He just lunged.

The prince was quick, very quick, as Keith had learned the hard way. But Pidge was quicker. As he darted forward Lotor made an attempt to counter, with a maneuver that was well-chosen and technically sound... except by the time he was in position he didn't actually have his sword anymore. It was on the ground ten feet away, and Pidge was standing over it looking exceptionally pleased with himself.

By rights, being disarmed by an alien half his size ought to disorient a proud Drule, at least for a moment. It didn't. And clearly Pidge was expecting at least a brief hesitation too, because he jumped back much too slowly when Lotor charged him. While he was moving he threw a couple of shuriken, which stuck in the prince's shoulder but didn't seem to actually deter him at all.

In a single fluid motion, Lotor retrieved his sword and landed a slash to the young warrior's ribs.

"Pidge!"

More plasma bolts shot out, Lance no longer worrying about little things like careful aim—if he had anything more on his mind than not hitting his teammate, it wasn't too apparent. Under the sudden explosion of fire, Lotor clearly decided pressing his advantage was less important than getting to shelter. He turned, sprinting for his own shuttle.

The distraction came just in time for his would-be victim; the engineer was crouched and grimacing, the side of his dark uniform becoming stained darker by blood. The wound looked much worse than the one Keith had taken, but the slice down his own arm probably meant he should stay off the front lines now.

Every so often, commander or not, he _could_ sit back and let his teammates handle things. "Lance, stick with him. I'll get Pidge."

"No problem. I'd bring you his head on a plate, if Coran hadn't broken all of them."

Snorting in reluctant amusement, Keith broke off his pursuit and knelt beside Pidge. "How bad is it?"

"I'll live. Your arm's a mess, did you know? You should get that looked at."

Typical. "Shut up about my arm and let me see your side. By the way, where the hell were you hiding out when you were supposed to be in the ruins?"

"That's for me to know and you not to know." He raised his arm to reveal the long but shallow cut down his side, and flinched when his commander started pulling shreds of seared cloth from his uniform out of the wound. "Stop that!"

"No. You'll get an infection."

"Fine, then when you get done let _me_ yank stuff out of the oozing bloody scar _you've_ got, and then we'll be even."

"Also no. I'll have Dr. Gorma tend to mine. Command prerogative."

Pidge swatted the back of his head, lightly, and muttered something that was unintelligible but undoubtedly not polite.

A whine of engines and a burst of swearing—this time in crystal clear English—distracted them. Lance hadn't caught up with Lotor, and the prince had made it to shelter. That was... suboptimal. The fact that his shelter had engines and weaponry was even less optimal.

Lotor had piloted a standard Drule shuttle to the Arusian surface. Not a fighter, merely a small transport. But in this day and age, every ship that was the slightest bit spaceworthy carried point-defense weapons—light guns which could at least rip up asteroids or debris that threatened the craft in flight.

Naturally, such weapons were also perfectly capable of tearing people up on the ground.

As the shuttle lifted off, two streams of glittering tracers and heavy slugs pounded into the beach right next to Lance, who threw himself to the side and started running for the water. Good choice, undoubtedly the first thing that came to mind in the heat of combat. Of course, even if _he_ made it to the water his teammates would still be sitting ducks.

Maybe they should think about moving.

Before he could give the order, something hit the shuttle and rocked its whole chassis. Not too violently, but noticeably. As the small craft stabilized itself, a second impact left a visible dent in one wing. Keith frowned, trying to make sense of it. He and Pidge were down comparing injuries, Allura was otherwise occupied in Blue, Lance was scrambling for cover, and Hunk...

...Hunk had an impractically gigantic rifle that he considered a sidearm. Right. That _would_ explain it. "No worries, guys!" the big pilot announced over their wristcomps, sounding as casual as anything. "I've got this."

Militaristic as their society was, Drules didn't tend to armor their light shuttlecraft; a third impact nearly pierced the cockpit, and Lotor seemed to decide he'd had quite enough for one day. The shuttle pulled an impressively tight turn and departed, though not before Hunk landed one more shot to its hull.

"Nice shooting, big guy." Lance had stopped perhaps ten feet from the ocean. "And nice _timing_. I really didn't want to go for a swim today."

"Yeah, yeah. You just didn't want to ruin your jacket."

"Which is an entirely valid thought process, thank you very much."

Keith rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Lotor's shuttle. It was heading back to the small Drule fleet at full speed; the destroyer which had broken ranks had returned, and the Death Defiant was already orienting to deploy a jumpgate. "Allura, what's your situation?"

"The destroyer retreated as soon as it saw me coming," the princess reported, sounding a little disappointed. "I got in a few good hits, but didn't really think you would want me trying to face off with the dreadnought alone, so I stopped to survey the damage instead. It seemed wiser."

_Understatement of the century_. "Good call."

"Thanks." Her voice became low, subdued. "Several fatalities at the settlement, but it could have been much worse. I have two badly wounded civilians in Blue Lion and I'm taking them to the castle."

Standing and pulling Pidge to his feet as well, Keith headed for the Sennecite transport. "We're heading in also. Pidge got himself a nice cut to the ribs." He didn't bother to mention his own injury, and his companion elbowed him a little harder than necessary. "...I might've gotten a bit of a scrape too, but it can wait."

At his side, green eyes raised to the heavens with a long-suffering sigh. "Chief, you are even more obnoxious than your sidekick sometimes."

"I heard that, squirt."

"I was transmitting on purpose, Lance."

"You're _all_ obnoxious," Keith retorted, shutting them up. Briefly. He knew it wouldn't last, and he knew he deserved what was coming next. Not that he intended to take it lying down. "And Lance, don't bother saying it."

"Don't bother saying what? That I told you so? Oh come on, Keith. Just because I told you so, I would never dream of actually _saying_ I told you so."

"Yeah. I know you wouldn't."

* * *

><p>It had been awhile since the medical wing had three patients at once. At least Gorma had a staff these days—a staff that consisted of exactly one nurse, but it was better than nothing. The two wounded peasants from the mountain settlement were in bad shape, but he'd expressed confidence that both would recover.<p>

The nurse had rushed over to tend to Pidge, much to the little warrior's intense displeasure. The last Allura had heard before they vanished into a treatment room, she'd been threatening to tie him to a cot to keep him still. _Good luck with that, Nurse Sharmila. You're going to need it._

That left Keith sitting in the waiting area, frowning and holding a damp cloth against the bloody slice on his upper arm. The princess studied the injury; while she was far from trained in medical arts, she'd patched up more than a few survivors in the days immediately following Doom's attack. "Keith, I can probably wrap that for you if you like."

He reddened, but recovered quickly. "Uh. Would you mind? I mean, I'd do it myself, but it's kind of... you know... on my arm."

Allura giggled. "Oh, I understand. Come on." She led him to an empty room, washed her hands, and poked through the cabinets to find some disinfectant. "This might sting a little."

"No disrespect intended, princess, but I just got my arm sliced open by a laser blade. It already _stings_. A little disinfectant surely can't make it worse."

She shrugged and opened the bottle, grimacing a little as the sterile floral scent washed over the room. It brought back memories—not all of them unpleasant. Memories of scraping her knee during some ill-fated adventure in the castle catacombs, of her father taking time from his busy royal schedule to dote on her as if she'd actually broken something. Memories of discovering some peculiar fuzzy creature in the gardens, only to be introduced to its razor-sharp teeth when she got too close. And of course memories of walking among the dead and the dying, looking for anyone who could yet be saved...

When she started rubbing the oily substance into the wound, Keith gave a howl that was not very soldier-like at all. "What is _that?"_

"Disinfectant." She fought back a smile when he growled in annoyance, and took pity on him after spending another minute on the wound. "It's a traditional formula made from amala root. Extremely effective. I did warn you it would sting."

"There is a difference," he muttered sullenly, "between 'sting' and 'burn like all the fires of hell', just so you know." The princess could feel the embarrassment rolling off him, but was actually impressed that he'd only cried out once. It was a nasty wound, and amala disinfectant really _did_ inflict its own special agony on an injury.

"You have to promise me you'll come get this looked at for real later. I highly doubt it merits stitches, but you can't be too careful."

"Yeah." Keith watched her as she found a roll of cloth to dress the wound, but when she pulled a sling out of a supply cupboard he shook his head vigorously. "Hey! Don't you think that's a bit much?"

"Not really. No arguing or I'll go get Nanny to handle this."

Flinch. "Okay, okay." He took the rest of the treatment without another word, then stood and tugged at the sling. "Ugh. Lance won't let me live this down. ...Hell, forget Lance. Pidge won't even let me live this down."

She laughed. "Pidge has his own problems. Sharmila really _will_ tie him to a bed if he doesn't cooperate."

"Might be good for him. Come on, let's get back to the control room... we've got a few things to discuss." His eyes narrowed as he focused on her, and the princess had a sneaking suspicion she knew what he was wanting to talk about.

In all the chaos that had erupted afterward, she'd nearly forgotten about Lotor's terms for the duel. And while they made her uneasy, she understood full well that Keith had had to accept... and why such a demand would be necessary. After all, robbing Arus of its last heir would be a crippling blow to morale, even if they didn't know she was flying a lion.

Understandable or not, Allura was quite certain of one thing. She didn't want her guardians to know the prince of the Ninth Kingdom had been calling her out by name. "I think it's best if we not mention that in front of Coran, actually."

He hesitated, blinked once. "...Okay, hadn't really thought about that. You're probably right." But his eyes narrowed as they started down the hallway. "But Drules are persistent. If he's decided he wants to get his hands on you, he's not going to stop. At least promise me you'll be careful."

"Of course I will. As careful as it's possible to be while flying a robotic lion into mortal peril on a regular basis..." Keith's eyes darkened and she realized maybe that had been more than she'd needed to say. "Forget that last part. I'll be careful."

He sighed, but seemed to decide it wasn't worth debating any further. Probably wise.

As they entered the control room, an alert sound went off as if on cue. Not the attack alarms, though. Just a warning of an incoming transmission... Keith stepped forward. "What is it now?"

Settling into the chair before the monitors, Coran glanced over the instruments and cocked his head. "We're receiving a broadcast from deep space; it's tagged as originating with the _Death Defiant_. No encryption, full video. Bringing it up now." He typed a few commands and let the monitor flicker to life.

Prince Lotor was standing in a small room, empty save for a second Drule who was chained to the floor beside him. "This transmission is being broadcast to friend and foe alike," the prince declared coolly. "I wish there to be no mistake about my intentions. My warriors will behave with discipline, or they will suffer the consequences." He turned to his prisoner. "This is Varkor, formerly commander of the destroyer _Pride of Ralimar_. On Arus, he chose to disobey my direct orders, and broke an agreement I had made with the defenders of that world. In doing so he brought great shame upon the Ninth Kingdom, as well as nearly costing me my life."

"Shame it was only _nearly_," Lance muttered. "I almost had that haughty bastard."

The prince's eyes glowed fiercely. "Honor and discipline are the most critical founding principles of the Drule Supremacy. They are the bright lines drawn between men and animals. If we cannot keep our word, no matter who it is given to, what right do we have to rule?"

Hunk frowned and leaned on the back of the command chair. "He sure likes to hear himself talk."

"I don't think the talking is for our benefit," Keith countered softly. There was a glimmer of anticipation from him. A dark anticipation that was not quite nervousness... the feeling only intensified what was running through Allura, something much colder and stronger.

Dread.

She _knew_ what was going to happen. She wasn't so sheltered. And while the rest of the team might not be thinking that far ahead, their commander knew it as well.

Lotor turned from the camera. "Those who prove themselves animals are fit only to be slaughtered." With a fierce shriek of scraping metal, he drew his sword—a ceremonial blade, not the laser weapon he'd used to fight Keith—and brought it down squarely on the bound Drule's throat, severing the head in a single blow. "Such is the price of insubordination. Such is the price of dishonor!"

The transmission cut out.

"...Okay then." Even Lance was gawking at the blank screen in disbelief. "So uh, chief. You remember what you were saying about how we've been fighting the wrong war?"

"I remember."

"I think I liked that one better."

* * *

><p>Entering for his afternoon session, Kylos found his patient sitting in bed, which was unusual enough to worry him. Lately the human had been pacing around his room quite a bit, as if he wanted to prove he was capable of walking—regardless of whether such action was intelligent or not. Finding him resting and taking care of himself could only mean something terrible had happened.<p>

"Sven, is something wrong?"

"Not at all. I just want to talk."

It took Kylos a moment to believe what he'd just heard. _Finally_. He stepped forward and took a seat, trying not to look too pleased, lest his patient reconsider just to be contrary. "Of course."

"Tell me about Ebb."

..._That was not what I was hoping for_. It was still a start, he supposed. "What do you wish to know?" Ebb _was_ a curious planet, in the galactic order. Few worlds focused so strongly on a single pursuit. And no other world had so successfully claimed true neutrality... among all the Denubian Galaxy, many worlds might escape the war as it intensified, but only Ebb managed to maintain trade contracts with both the Alliance and the Supremacy. These were all fascinating points in theory, but patients rarely cared about them.

Perhaps Sven didn't either. "Geography."

That was an awfully broad request. He gave it a try. "Ebb has some similarities to your homeworld—you _are_ from Earth itself, are you not?" He'd done a bit of background research on the human homeworld, but not any of the colonies it maintained in its own galaxy.

The human nodded. He did not offer any more information.

_Fair enough_. "There are twelve major continents on Ebb; we are on Haurvatat, one of the smaller, very near to the equator. As a whole our climate is somewhat milder than Earth's. Some eighty percent of our world is covered in water..."

"Are we near the water?" Sven interrupted.

Kylos hesitated. He suddenly knew where this was headed. "We... yes. We're quite near the Kenta River."

"Can we go there?"

They stared at each other for some interminable period of time. Kylos didn't care for the idea. His patient was still weak, and far too stubborn to take care of himself even in the confines of his hospital room—let alone going outdoors.

Yet... there was something about the water. Something that made a spark of life appear in Sven's midnight eyes.

Part of being a sanahar was knowing when to push, and when to acquiesce. He decided to issue a test now. "If we are leaving this building, I must insist we take a wheelchair."

He'd been anticipating the flare of icy fury, and was ready for it. Such wild emotions were easy to neutralize when they were expected. _How important is this to you, Sven Holgersson? Is the call of the water so strong you will submit to the care of another?_

A long silence. Caring for this patient had resolved itself into a dark tapestry of hostility and silence, and he was no longer unduly disturbed by such moments. His disturbance now rested solely where it ought to be: concern for the effects of these shadows upon the human in his care.

When Sven spoke it was a struggle thoroughly unrelated to his injuries. "If we must."

It was a breakthrough, a victory, and Kylos smiled as he revealed the full extent of his test. "I said we must _take_ a wheelchair," he clarified. "To be safe. If we need not use it, so much the better."

Sven's entire demeanor changed in an instant. _For_ an instant. But the gratitude that washed through him was unmistakable... as was the flicker in his eyes, a flicker of disbelieving wonder. For that moment, perhaps for the first time since waking on Ebb, he was looking at Kylos as something other than an enemy.

The sanahar was pleased. Finally... _finally_... they were making some progress.


	11. Taking the Reins

**Arusian Crusade: Changing Tides**  
>Epilogue: Taking the Reins<p>

_And here's three down. As always, many thanks for reading and extra thanks for the reviews!  
><em>_And of course, Part 4 will be along shortly..._

* * *

><p>Lotor had called the <em>Death Defiant<em>'s crew together in the hangar, standing in the shadow of the mighty dreadnought. Everyone knew who was commanding them now, of course. But there was one small matter left to attend to.

Within the Supremacy, it was tradition that a new fleet commander would rename his command ship. No matter what reason there was for the previous commander to have been replaced, those ghosts didn't need to linger—specters of failure should be put to rest, and memories of success should be retired in glory. Usually, a commander would simply reuse one ship name throughout their career—the first renaming w as an important milestone, one which could set the tone for all future assignments.

On Straton, the prince had chosen _Chaos Arbiter_, and had rather expected the name to stick. But...

It seemed like an intrusion. His new command vessel was still Yurak's ship, and the admiral's sacrifice had bound all his warriors even more loyally to him, even as he fell in combat to open their eyes. Lotor had no desire to waltz in and try to replace all of that. No... the spirit of the _Death Defiant_ would be given its well-deserved rest. But he would not abandon its legacy so easily.

Nor would his warriors.

He knew why Varkor had broken on Arus. Knew why the rest of the _Pride of Ralimar_'s crew had gone along with it. They'd thought to honor the fallen admiral through blind vengeance, and while utterly misguided, their foolishness was understandable. And Lotor did understand now... if he meant to command these people, to take up Yurak's mantle, he must _prove_ he honored what had come before.

"Listen, all of you." Ranks of glowing eyes fixed on him as he stepped forward. "As is my right and duty as commander, I retire the name _Death Defiant_. May its victories pass into legend, as it deserves above all others." They were silent. Waiting. Judging him for what his next words would be. "I hereby rechristen this ship the _Admiral_ _Lionbane._" Naming ships after people was almost unheard of, but if any hero deserved such immortality, Yurak surely did. "And we will finish what he started. Voltron will fall!"

* * *

><p>Ever since his duel with Prince Lotor, Keith had gotten a lot more serious about hand to hand combat. Hard to blame him, really. Allura was up to sparring with Lance now—she knew that wasn't really how Keith would've preferred to do things, but he was still walking around with a sling and stitches.<p>

Pidge was still making fun of him for it. Of course, he was sewn up quite a bit tighter than his commander, and had apparently screamed twice as loud about the disinfectant. The princess decided to keep that little secret between herself and Sharmila... for now.

That could always change, if the little pilot wasn't careful.

All the extra training was tiring, and Allura savored the nights. She was sprawled out on her bed now, relaxing her aching muscles and thinking about a hot bath. But that would involve standing and walking, both of which sounded terribly unpleasant. So she remained on top of the soft mattress and contemplated what the next day would bring. Probably more bruises, but she could deal with that. She was well on her way to becoming a true warrior.

So strange, the way the world worked... _I know you're watching, Father. I hope you're proud._

Perhaps tomorrow she would have time to go and talk to him. To ask him directly, though there really wasn't any doubt in her mind.

A knock on the door; a familiar accent called out to her. "Princess?"

"It's open." It would have been more dignified to get up and actually open the door, but she was too sore to worry about dignified right now. And her visitor wouldn't mind.

"Ach, Princess. You look exhausted." Nanny shuffled into the room with an armful of blue and dark gray cloth, and set it on the bed next to her. "You should take a warm bath and get some sleep!"

"That thought has occurred to me. I'll do it when I feel up to moving again." Before she could be scolded for pushing herself too hard, she turned her attention to the clothing Nanny had placed on the bed, and her eyes widened as she recognized the uniform. "Nanny, is that...?"

"Commander Keith," the older woman explained, "requested that I pick out a suitable uniform for you. Pidge and Hunk seconded the request. And Lance," her lip curled, "threatened to simply ask you your uniform size himself if I refused."

Despite herself, Allura laughed, which earned her a bit of a scowl. She laughed to fight down the shock, the warmth flooding through her at those words. "Lance would."

"I am well aware he _would_, that's why I agreed to it! I still don't approve of this nonsense." She hesitated a moment, then her expression softened. "...But if you're going to do it, you may as well do it right. I am proud of you, Princess." She vanished before Allura could respond.

Which was probably just as well, because her cheeks had gone pinker than her flight suit.

Standing, grimacing as her body protested the motion, Allura slowly and painfully changed into the blue uniform. It was painful and ridiculous—what was the point of being in uniform at all this late at night, anyway? But she forced herself because it was important. Because the team had decided she deserved this color, this role.

And because she had to let someone know.

_Blue Lion. I'm wearing your color now, the others told me to. You were right after all... and I don't have any doubts anymore._ Allura leaned against her window and looked up at the stars. She wondered where Sven was right now, if he was healing, if he was wondering about what he'd left behind on Arus. _Tell the heart of serenity, if you can. Tell him things are in good hands here... but tell him to come back soon_.

She felt the lion's response. A gentle chill rippling through her, soothing her aching muscles. And a sense that she could only identify as gratitude.

A faint smile crossed her lips. _You're welcome, Blue Lion. And thank you._


End file.
